Forgotten Exodus

Forgotten Exodus

Published by Rajan Zaveri

Š Rajan Zaveri 2009 All images unless otherwise specified are Š.

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First published 2009 ISBN 184 3 56 028378 0 All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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History

History

Asians, largely Indian, had been migrating to East Africa for generations. However a mass influx occurred in the late 19th Century. They were employed by both the Indian and British governments to construct and maintain what became 1,286 miles of rail network in the then, British colony, Uganda.

After their work was completed, many Indians remained and became extremely important to the Ugandan economy. Many Indians in East Africa and Uganda were in the sartorial and banking businesses, where they were kept forcibly by the British colonialists. Since the representation of Indians in these occupations was high, stereotyping of Indians in Uganda as tailors or bankers was common. Many of the immigrants demonstrated entrepreneurial business skills which proved beneficial to the Ugandan economy as a whole, making the country one of the richest in Africa. However, like many immigrant communities, their contributions to the countries wealth went unnoticed and actually caused friction between them and the native population.

On August 4 1972 the President of Uganda, Idi Amin, gave Uganda’s Asians (mostly Guajarati’s of Indian origin) 90 days to leave the country. Amin condemned the entire Ugandan Asian population as ‘bloodsuckers’ and claimed he had a dream in which God told him to expel them, regardless if they held Ugandan passports or not. The majority of expelled Asians made their way to Britain, while others found new homes in other countries around the world. They settled, got back on their feet and got on with their lives after losing everything. These are their memories.

Asians, largely Indian, had been migrating to East Africa fo r generatio ns. Ho w ever a mass influ x o ccu r red in the late 19th Centu ry. They were emplo yed by bot h the Indian and British governments to con stru ct and maintain what became 1,286 miles o f rail netwo r k in the then, British co l o n y, U ganda.

After their wor k was completed, many Indians remained and became extremely impo r tant to the U gandan eco n o my. M any Indians in East Africa and U ganda were in the sarto r ial and banking businesses, where they were kept fo r cibly by the British co l o nialists. Since the representatio n o f Indians in these o ccu p atio n s was high, stereo t yping o f Indians in Ug anda as tailors or bankers was co m mo n. M any o f the immigrants demo nstrated entrepreneu rial bu s iness skills which pro v ed beneficial to the Ugandan eco n o m y as a whole, making the coun try on e o f the richest in Africa. Ho w ever, like many immigrant co mmu n ities, their co n tribu tio n s to the co u n tries wealth went u n no t iced and actu a lly caused friction between them and the native po p u l atio n .

O n Au g u s t 4 1972 the President of Ug anda, Idi Amin, gave U ganda’ s Asians (mo s tly Gu ajarati’ s o f Indian o rigin) 90 days to leave the co u n try. Amin co n demned the entire U g andan Asian population as ‘bloodsuc kers’ and claimed he had a dream in which Go d to l d him to expel them, regardless if they held U gandan passpo rts o r no t.

The majo r ity o f expelled Asians made their way to Britain, while o t hers fo u nd new ho m es in o t her co u ntries aro u n d the wo rld. They settled, go t back o n their feet and go t o n with their lives after losing everything. These are their memo r ies.

If we knew the meaning to everything that is happening to us, then there would be no meaning.

Idi Amin

If we knew the meaning to everything that is happening to us, then there would be no meaning.

Idi Amin

Ordinary riches can be stolen; real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.

Oscar Wilde

Ordinary riches can be stolen; real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.

Oscar Wilde

Sarat Bhai Babari In Uganda I owned a bicycle shop. Life was good out there in terms of climate and community. Sure it would have been good to have been able to stay in Uganda, but this country has offered up new opportunities that have been good for the next generation. I remember leaving we could only take the equivalent of £50 in vouchers with us. Of course Uganda had become a buyers’ paradise as Asians began to offload all their life-long possessions.

I remember a Ugandan man coming home to see and then buy our sofas.

We left on a Monday night flight; I remember that because we did not have UK visas even though we held UK passports and were UK citizens. But on Mondays the immigration staff was worse for wear after a weekend so we got through with no hassle.

Sarat Bhzai Babari In Uganda I owned a bicycle shop. Life was good out there in terms of climate and community. Sure it would have been good to have been able to stay in Uganda, but this country has offered up new opportunities that have been good for the next generation. I remember leaving we could only take the equivalent of £50 in vouchers with us. Of course Uganda had become a buyers’ paradise as Asians began to offload all their life-long possessions. I remember a Ugandan man coming home to see and then buy our sofas.

We left on a Monday night flight; I remember that because we did not have UK visas even though we held UK passports and were UK citizens. But on Mondays the immigration staff was worse for wear after a weekend so we got through with no hassle.

Lalitchandra Popatlal Parekh I left in August 1972. In Uganda I owned a hardware store, but we sold all sorts. Groceries, papers you know a bit of everything. I had to lock the doors and just leave with all the shelves full of stock. I wouldn’t go back, what for? I’ve settled here my children have settled here, what good would it do to go back? I think my children are better off here.

I remember the journey out; the soldiers took everything of value. I remember them taking my wife’s gold necklace and bangles. All we came here with was a suitcase and a £55 voucher.

Lalitchandra Popatlal Parekh I left in August 1972. In Uganda I owned a hardware store, but we sold all sorts. Groceries, papers you know a bit of everything. I had to lock the doors and just leave with all the shelves full of stock. I wouldn’t go back, what for? I’ve settled here my children have settled here, what good would it do to go back? I think my children are better off here. I remember the journey out; the soldiers took everything of value. I remember them taking my wife’s gold necklace and bangles. All we came here with was a suitcase and a £55 voucher.

Zulfiqa

Zulfiqa

I remember being on my Dads shoulders when Idi Amin did like a Presidential tour; he was welcomed by all the people as he made his promises. I remember being on my dads shoulders as he was walking through the crowds, and everyone cheering ....just like I suppose...the Hitler kind of thing.... everything looked liked it was flowing, he made all the right promises. But I remember my dad must have been some kind of activist. Because I remember being on my Mums back, and I could tell she was scared. It was that kind of sensation, you knew to keep quiet even though you were a kid.

Most of my life was spent growing up here so if you ask me I’m more British than Ugandan. I’ve got other members of the family who are deeply interested in following the family lines. My dad was Asian, my mum African if you like or Ugandan. So they followed the Asian tree and the Ugandan tree as well, so others seemed to be more interested.

Me? I suppose I tend to live for the day.

I don’t know if it ever had an impact on me, but I remember going to a shooting thing as a kid. They took me to a shooting thing at a police station. Criminals were basically laid on the floor and...boom...shotgun. Those kinds of memories, if they played a part in me I don’t know, I don’t feel like they have but you never know. I remember dead bodies or if you like...not bodies but all you saw was like white sheets.....white sheets on the side of road. I remember asking, can’t remember the answer, but the kind of impression you got was there was a dead body under that sheet and you daren’t move it or go near it You’d drive from one town to the next town, and there’s lots of green growth because it’s a really fertile country Uganda. They’ve got tarmac but very close to the tarmac they’ve got jungle and plantations kind of thing. So you’d see something on the corner of the road, whether it was meant to be some kind of warning to people, because no one daren’t clear it up. That’s the impression you got.... just left it there.

I got the impression that some of the Asians had seen it coming and had been able to transfer funds out and so make it rosier when they got here or America or Canada. But

others seemed to have been caught unawares because he froze all sorts of funding; you weren’t allowed to transfer funds out, so some were just caught. I think my dad was one of those, because we had a few businesses over there, lorries etc and employees at the time and family that was all left.

I think people are where they’re brought up, you know with your back foot in, are you black or are you British? It tends to be Black/British you are where your brought up, no matter how you try and go back to that place that your generation came from...its foreign....I mean the people can be nice, but your just used to your way of life.

I remember being on my Dads shoulders when Idi Amin did like a Presidential tour; he was welcomed by all the people as he made his promises. I remember being on my Dads shoulders as he was walking through the crowds, and everyone cheering ....just like I suppose... the Hitler kind of thing.... everything looked liked it was flowing, he made all the right promises. But I remember my dad must have been some kind of activist.

Because I remember being on my Mums back, and I could tell she was scared. It was that kind of sensation, you knew to keep quiet even though you were a kid. Most of my life was spent growing up here so if you ask me I’m more British than Ugandan. I’ve got other members of the family who are deeply interested in following the family lines. My dad was Asian, my mum African if you like or Ugandan. So they followed the Asian tree and the Ugandan tree as well, so others seemed to be more interested. Me? I suppose I tend to live for the day I don’t know if it ever had an impact on me, but I remember going to a shooting thing as a kid. They took me to a shooting thing at a police station.

Criminals were basically laid on the floor and...boom... shotgun. Those kinds of memories, if they played a part in me I don’t know, I don’t feel like they have but you never know. I remember dead bodies or if you like...not bodies but all you saw was like white sheets.....white sheets on the side of road. I remember asking, can’t remember the answer, but the kind of impression you got was there

was a dead body under that sheet and you daren’t move it or go near it You’d drive from one town to the next town, and there’s lots of green growth because it’s a really fertile country Uganda. They’ve got tarmac but very close to the tarmac they’ve got jungle and plantations kind of thing. So you’d see something on the corner of the road, whether it was meant to be some kind of warning to people, because no one daren’t clear it up. That’s the impression you got....just left it there, I got the impression that some of the Asians had seen it coming and had been able to transfer funds out and so make it rosier when they got here or America or Canada. But others seemed to have been caught unawares because he froze all sorts of funding; you weren’t allowed to transfer funds out, so some were just caught. I think my dad was one of those, because we had a few businesses over there, lorries etc and employees at the time and family that was all left. I think people are where they’re brought up, you know with your back foot in, are you black or are you British? It tends to be Black/British you are where your brought up, no matter how you try and go back to that place that your generation came from...its foreign....I mean the people can be nice, but your just used to your way of life.

Rajnikant Shah I came over to the U.K a few months before it happened. Never thought something like that could happen.

The country when I left there, it was alright there was order. I had no idea something like that could happen, just throw everybody out one day. Idi Amin was a very famous, big name in Uganda when I left. I wouldn’t go back to live, but for a holiday yes; it would be good to go back.

If it hadn’t happened like it did I would have loved for my children to go back and live. But I left because they had Africanised everything. Over there I was without a job and had no opportunity to get one, and that’s why I had to come out here. Here the life the living quality was a lot better to me and my family than it was in Uganda. One of my children was born here the other in Uganda; of course they would like to see what it was like. I used to work in the bank in Uganda.

When it happened we lost our properties.

We never got anything back from them.

Rajnikant Shah I came over to the U.K a few months before it happened. Never thought something like that could happen.

The country when I left there, it was alright there was order. I had no idea something like that could happen, just throw everybody out one day.

Idi Amin was a very famo u s , big name in U ganda when I left. I wouldn’t go back to live, but for a ho l iday yes; it wo u l d be go o d to go back.

If it hadn’ t happened like it did I wo u l d have loved for my children to go back and live. But I left because they had Africanised everything.

Over there I was without a job and had no opportunity to get one, and that’s why I had to come out here.

Here the life the living quality was a lot better to me and my family than it was in Uganda. One of my children was bo rn here the o ther in U ganda; o f course they would like to see what it was like. I u s ed to wo rk in the bank in U ganda.

When it happened we lost our properties. We never go t anything back fro m them.

Lalita Patel We can’t go back, what would we go for? Everyone’s here. On the night we left we got a taxi to the airport and we were allowed to bring just £55 and 20 kilos of luggage, mainly just clothes. We left the house open, all the furniture food, we just left it, money, everything. We couldn’t sell anything because nobody could buy it we just left the key and went. We’ve been back to visit but it’s no good to live there, you had to worry day and night in Uganda here is better. A lot of hassle in Uganda, as soon as you wake you’ve got to worry as soon as you sleep you’ve got to worry, at 6pm you cant go out. Because it was not living in a proper city we were living in a village 5-6 houses and a shop, we were living in the jungle, living in a hut with one room working in a store. Life here is better for us and the next generation.

Lalita Patel We can’t go back, what would we go for?

Everyo n e’ s here. O n the night we left we go t a taxi to the airport and we were allowed to bring just £ 55 and 20 kilos of luggage, mainly just clothes. We left the house open, all the furniture food, we just left it, money, everything. We couldn’t sell anything because nobody could buy it we just left the key and went. We’ve been back to visit but it’s no good to live there, you had to worry day and night in Uganda here is better. A lot of hassle in Uganda, as soon as you wake you’ve got to worry as soon as you sleep you’ve got to worry, at 6pm you cant go out. Because it was not living in a proper city we were living in a village 5-6 houses and a shop, we were living in the jungle, living in a hut with one room working in a store. Life here is better for us and the next generation.

Devshi Dayabhai Patel

Devshi Dayabhai Patel

I came to Uganda in 1939 from India to work in my Uncle’s shop in Jinja We used to supply to small shops and we used to get our produce from Mombasa as well as Jinja in wholesale. Our wholesale business consisted of goods such as sheets of metal and cement. He had a business of produce and it was wholesale business and I started working in his business When 1972 happened I remember leaving in the taxi on the way from Jinja to Entebbe where the airport was.

I remember it was £50, we were only allowed £50. We take clothes, but only as many as we could carry. I remember being sad, we had lost our own country because we were settled there and we thought that we should never have to leave. But we still had to get out so we had to leave everything, had to leave the business, had to leave the money in the bank. So naturally we felt bad.

I hope one day my children will go back and see where I lived and grew up.

But I have worked hard to ensure their lives, their new beginning, in this country.

I came to U ganda in 1939 fro m India to wo rk in my Uncle’s shop in Jinja We used to supply to small shops and we used to get our produce from Mombasa as well as Jinja in wholesale. Our wholesale business consisted of goods such as sheets of metal and cement. He had a business of produce and it was wholesale business and I started working in his bu s iness When 1972 happened I remember leaving in the taxi on the way from Jinja to Entebbe where the airport was. I remember it was £ 50, we were only allowed £50. We take clothes, but only as many as we could carry. I remember being sad, we had lost our own country because we were settled there and we tho u ght that we sho u l d never have to leave. But we still had to get out so we had to leave everything, had to leave the business, had to leave the money in the bank. So naturally we felt bad.

I hope one day my children will go back and see where I lived and grew up. But I have worked hard to ensure their lives, their new beginning, in this co u n try.

Shailesh Patel

Shailesh Patel I came over in 1972, I was 13 years old, and I remember quite a bit, I’ll be honest like, nothing pleasant towards the end.

We living about 15 miles from the city centre, then we lived in Kampala for a few months towards the end, because of the ticket situation. At the time you obviously had to get out of the country as soon as you could. It was dangerous, like life threatening, you had to very careful. What was happening was there were six in our family right. Parents and four kids, I’m the only son and the oldest and three sisters.

So when you went to the ticket office they were saying three tickets for one country and three for another. It was a bit awkward to split a family up like. If it were grown up people it wouldn’t matter so much, we’d go to another country then at a later time meet up. But because we were so young it would just be too awkward. So we had to stay in Kampala the city itself to get six tickets, to whatever destination.

I mean it could’ve been anywhere as long as it’s out of the country you know, that’s how it was.

I can remember the journey out quite vividly. We left in as rush, basically once you got the tickets they didn’t give you much time to get out. A few days if anything, that’s all you had to get everything ready and be gone. We didn’t bring much. I think basically you were allowed 50 kilos in weight for your possessions, nothing of value, you know clothes and such. We managed to smuggle quite a bit out but no money, no cash.

We were only allowed £55 in traveller’s cheques. We had African passports; we had to live in this country for 5 years before we got British Citizenship. It was through my grandmother who was the one who had a British passport that we were able to get the citizenship. In the end it worked out alright.

In Uganda my dad had a truck hauling business and a shop. He used to transport anything, because over there you’d have lots of farming. He’d transport anything cotton, coffee, any types of goods. We lost the lot and haven’t ever seen anything ever back from it. I wouldn’t go back to live but for a holiday; it’d be great to visit.

If 1972 hadn’t happened I would still be living there. For my generation and my children’s generation it would have been a better life over there instead of in a western society. The quality of lifestyle was great, no two ways about it. I mean the country itself was absolutely brilliant, great when I was growing up. Nothing like security wise, didn’t have to lock up anything. I mean with a vehicle, you just leave the keys in like, and nothing would happen. It was great place to live.

I came over in 1972, I was 13 years old, and I remember quite a bit, I’ll be honest like, nothing pleasant towards the end. We living about 15 miles from the city centre, then we lived in Kampala for a few months towards the end, because of the ticket situation. At the time you obviously had to get out of the country as soon as you could. It was dangerous, like life threatening, you had to very careful. What was happening was there were six in our family right. Parents and four kids, I’m the o n ly so n and the o l dest and three sisters.

So when you went to the ticket office they were saying three tickets for one country and three for another. It was a bit awkward to split a family up like. If it were grown up people it wouldn’t matter so much, we’d go to another country then at a later time meet up. But because we were so young it would just be too awkward. So we had to stay in Kampala the city itself to get six tickets, to whatever destination.

I mean it co u l d’ v e been anywhere as lo n g as it’ s o u t o f the country you know, that’s how it was.

I can remember the journey out quite vividly. We left in as rush, basically once you got the tickets they didn’t give you much time to get out. A few days if anything, that’s all you had to get everything ready and be gone. We didn’t bring much. I think basically you were allowed 50 kilos in weight for your possessions, nothing of value, you know clothes and such. We managed to smuggle quite a bit out but no mo n ey, no cash. We were o n ly allo w ed £55 in traveller’ s chequ es. We had African passpo rts; we had to live in this country for 5 years before we got British Citizenship. It was through my grandmother who was the one who had a British passport that we were able to get the citizenship. In the end it wo rked o u t alright.

In Uganda my dad had a truck hauling business and a shop. He used to transport anything, because over there you’d have lots of farming. He’d transport anything cotton, coffee, any types of goods. We lost the lot and haven’t ever seen anything ever back from it. I wouldn’t go back to live but for a holiday; it’d be great to visit. If 1972 hadn’t happened I would still be living there. For my generation and my children’s generation it would have been a better life o v er there instead o f in a western society. The quality of lifestyle was great, no two ways abo u t it. I mean the co u n try itself was abso l u tely brilliant, great when I was growing up. Nothing like security wise, didn’t have to lock up anything.

I mean with a vehicle, you just leave the keys in like, and nothing would happen. It was great place to live.

Ramon Patel

Subodh Vyas

I left Uganda well before Idi Amin, in 1960.

On the night before I left to go to Germany, one of my friends who was working in the Kings African rifle, that’s British army. And the base was in Jinja, I was born in Jinja, that’s the 2nd largest town in Uganda. One of my friends he was working as a civilian in the army camp, and he said I will take you for a farewell drink before you go to Germany.

And he access to go to bar at the base. Every British army base had their own bar or canteen and you used to be able to get very cheap subsidised drinks so he said ill take you in there since it was cheap. So we went in there and were having a drink and who walks in? Idi Amin! My friend who was a senior clerk, he knew Idi Amin and he called him over and Amin came and sat down and started joking and laughing. He introduced me and told Amin that I was going to Germany. And Amin said ‘It’s a pity’. So I asked him, what do you mean it’s a pity? Amin said ‘All Asians and people in this country with money, their children go overseas and Ugandans are losing a lot of money in exchange.

So I said yes, but what is the result? He said ‘what do you mean by the result? I said that I want to do something in electronics or the electrical side and I said you show me a single college, Uni or whatever in Uganda. There is only one and that is in Kenya and they only take the cream of the crop, a handful of the best students. And coming from Uganda I don’t stand a chance at all, so they only way for me to study further is to go out. And I said of course I’m going to come back. That ticked him ‘Oh I can understand that’. So he couldn’t think far, you know. He could only think of the losing money.

Idi Amin was very good as a solider, though he had no education, he was more or less illiterate.

But he was pushed by British army officers, because he was the only African who used to play Rugby. He was very good at sports. He was once the heavy weight champion of boxing in Uganda.

He was a very good rugby player. He was from the very beginning he was pushed since he was the only African. And most of the British officials were Welsh and they were mad about Rugby. So he was very popular, and he was a very jolly guy always laughing and this that an other. There was another thing, ok Uganda was, there was a racist element. But it was not open but at that time, Kenya however was. Settlers you know a lot of British famers, settlers came to Kenya. And they were very opposed to Africans, treating them like servants or slaves. So when ever the Rugby team you know the Ugandan African Rifles used to go

play in Kenya, you know British Army used to have inter army matches. Uganda would select Amin in their team but after the rugby if there was a piss up you know, drink. They wouldn’t let him in. He used to sit or stay in the truck outside. So he did you know little bit suffer. But he did not mind, he was a very good solider and very faithful to the queen. But a solider he was ruthless. He did take part in MO-MO its was an independence movement in Kenya. They were ruthless the independence movement and the British army, they were fighting back. Amin would be sent as the platoon leader, and go into the jungle to go catch someone from the rebellion. An officer would send him and say, ok catch don’t kill them, bring them back. He never brought them back, he killed them. He thought of the Queen as his mother, and as solider he was very good. But as a politician, the power went to his head. And also he did not trust anybody. First he got rid of the Asians because they were controlling the economy and he wanted to give it to the Africans, he said ‘we will chuck them away, and all their money and property, you will have it’. But you can not over night become a doctor. It had no way of working.

He was not thinking far. But he wanted to remain in power so he would do anything to convince the people. So at first he didn’t trust the Asians, then he started suspecting the Christian-Africans, then the other tribes. He would then only have his tribe around him and then only relatives, it went more and more. Paranoia, that’s what he ended up being.

I left Uganda well before Idi Amin, in 1960. On the night befo re I left to go to Germany, o n e o f my friends who was working in the Kings African rifle, that’s British army.

And the base was in Jinja, I was born in Jinja, that’s the 2nd largest town in Uganda. One of my friends he was working as a civilian in the army camp, and he said I will take you for a farewell drink befo re yo u go to Germany. And he access to go to bar at the base. Every British army base had their own bar o r canteen and yo u u sed to be able to get very cheap su bsidised drinks so he said ill take you in there since it was cheap. So we went in there and were having a drink and who walks in? Idi Amin! My friend who was a senior clerk, he knew Idi Amin and he called him over and Amin came and sat down and started joking and laughing. He introduced me and told Amin that I was going to Germany. And Amin said ‘ It’s a pity’. So I asked him, what do you mean it’s a pity? Amin said ‘ All Asians

and peo p le in this co u n try with mo n ey, their children go o v erseas and U g andans are lo s ing a lo t o f mo n ey in exchange. So I said yes, bu t what is the resu l t? He said ‘w hat do yo u mean by the resu l t? I said that I want to do so m ething in electro n ics o r the electrical side and I said yo u sho w me a single co l lege, U n i o r whatever in U g anda. There is o n ly o n e and that is in Kenya and they o n ly take the cream o f the cro p , a handfu l o f the best stu d ents. And co m ing fro m U g anda I do n ’ t stand a chance at all, so they o n ly way fo r me to stu d y fu r ther is to go o u t . And I said o f co u r se I’ m go i ng to com e back. That ticked him ‘ Oh I can understand that’. So he co u l dn’ t think far, yo u kno w . He co u l d o n ly think o f the lo s ing mo n ey.

Idi Amin was very go o d as a so l ider, tho u g h he had no educ ation, he was mor e or less illiterate. But he was pus hed by British army o f ficers, becau s e he was the o n ly African who us ed to play Rugby. He was very good at spor ts. He was once the heavy weight champio n o f bo x ing in U g anda. He was a very go o d ru g by player. He was fro m the very beginning he was pu s hed since he was the o n ly African. And mo s t o f the British o f ficials were Welsh and they were mad abo u t R u g by. So he was very po p u l ar, and he was a very jo l ly gu y always lau g hing and this that an o t her. There was ano t her thing, o k U g anda was, there was a racist element. Bu t it was no t o p en bu t at that time, Kenya ho w ever was. Settlers yo u kno w a lo t o f British famers, settlers came to Kenya. And they were very o p po s ed to Africans, treating them like servants o r slaves. So when ever the R u g by team yo u kno w the U g andan African R i fles u s ed to go play in Kenya, yo u kno w British Army u s ed to have inter army matches.

U g anda wo u l d select Amin in their team bu t after the ru g by if there was a piss u p yo u kno w , drink. They wo u l dn’ t let him in.

He u s ed to sit o r stay in the tru c k o u t side. So he did yo u kno w little bit suf fer. But he did not mind, he was a very good sol ider and very faithfu l to the qu e en. Bu t a so l ider he was ru t hless. He did take part in M O - M O its was an independence mo v ement in Kenya.

They were ru t hless the independence mo v ement and the British army, they were fighting back. Amin wo u l d be sent as the plato o n leader, and go into the ju n gle to go catch so m eo n e fro m the rebellio n . An o f ficer wo u l d send him and say, o k catch do n ’ t kill them, bring them back. He never bro u g ht them back, he killed them. He tho u g ht o f the Qu e en as his mo t her, and as so l ider he was very go o d . Bu t as a po l itician, the po w er went to his head. And also he did no t tru s t anybo d y. First he go t rid of the Asians becaus e they were control ling the econom y and he wanted to give it to the Africans, he said ‘ w e will chu c k them away, and all their money and property, you will have it’.

Bu t yo u can no t o v er night beco m e a do c to r . It had no way o f wo r king.

He was no t thinking far. Bu t he wanted to remain in po w er so he wo u l d do anything to co n vince the peo p le. So at first he didn’ t trus t the Asians, then he started sus pecting the ChristianAfricans, then the o t her tribes. He wo u l d then o n ly have his tribe aro u n d him and then o n ly relatives, it went mo r e and mo r e.

Parano i a, that’ s what he ended u p being.

Arati Metha I came over to the U.K when I was 8, when Idi Amin threw out everybody.

I remember quite a lot about Uganda, my childhood. I remember the night we left, all the soldiers harassing the people.

Telling them to leave, telling them to leave all their possessions.

If I had the chance I would love to go back. To take my daughter, show her where her mum was born. I don’t think Uganda would be the place for daughter to grow up in. I mean if it were a stable country then yeah, it would be fine. But not now, there are still a lot of incidents happening there. Plus the food and water, she wouldn’t be able to adjust her life to over there. I myself didn’t bring anything over from Uganda, my parents did, but you know just the bear essentials like clothes a few pictures. I came over with my mum and my younger sister. On the night we left we just shut the doors and my brother told us just go, just leave for the airport straight away. We just got in a car and left. My brother was the only one left there; he caught one of the last planes out of Uganda.

People were scared, in a hurry to go. The soldiers were taking all the possessions you know, money, jewellery, everything. They were taking it all at the airport anything they could grab, anything from the people. They left them completely penniless. They were violent, they were killing people. It got to that stage you know. It was getting very bad.

There was like curfew, like a deadline where everyone had to leave. If you didn’t well it was just like, they would kill you.

I remember people getting hit on the street, people who weren’t handing over their possessions, getting beaten up. All the Asian people were scared, they were crying, all their lives they had saved and earned everything and they were losing it all in a minute.

Arati Metha I came over to the U.K when I was 8, when Idi Amin threw out everybody. I remember quite a lot about Uganda, my childhood. I remember the night we left, all the soldiers harassing the people.

Telling them to leave, telling them to leave all their po s sessio n s.

If I had the chance I would love to go back.

To take my daughter, show her where her mum was born. I don’t think Uganda would be the place for daughter to grow up in. I mean if it were a stable country then yeah, it would be fine. But not now, there are still a lot of incidents happening there. Plus the food and water, she wouldn’t be able to adjust her life to over there. I myself didn’t bring anything over from Uganda, my parents did, but you know just the bear essentials like clothes a few pictures. I came over with my mum and my yo u n ger sister. O n the night we left we just shut the doors and my brother told us just go, just leave for the airport straight away. We just got in a car and left. My brother was the only one left there; he caught one of the last planes out of U ganda.

People were scared hurry to go. The soldiers were taking all the possessions you know, money, jewellery, everything. They were taking it all at the airport anything they could grab, anything from the people. They left them completely penniless. They were violent, they were killing people. It got to that stage you know. It was getting very bad. There was alike curfew, like a deadline where everyone had to leave. If you didn’t well it was just like, they would kill you. I remember people getting hit on the street, people who weren’t handing over their possessions, getting beaten up. All the Asian people were scared, they were crying, all their lives they had saved and earned everything and they were lo s ing it all in a minu te.

Chandrakant Metha Idi Amin was the Army chief when I left, Obotu was the president. I left just before Amin came to power and threw out the Asians. I defiantly would want to go back to Uganda. If I had a choice I would’ve rather seen my children grow up in Uganda than the U.K. It’s the community life that was over there that just isn’t present over here. If 1972 hadn’t happened I would have gone back to Uganda.

Chandrakant Metha Idi Amin was the Army chief when I left, Obotu was the president. I left just before Amin came to po w er and threw o u t the Asians. I defiantly would want to go back to Uganda. If I had a choice I would’ve rather seen my children grow up in Uganda than the U.K. It’s the community life that was over there that just isn’t present over here.

If 1972 hadn’ t happened I wo u l d have go n e back to U ganda.

Ramon Patel I remember a lot from 1972, that sort of thing you can easily remember. Life was over there but here, but here the weather is cold in India and Africa the weather was good. In Africa I had a sugar farm 37 miles from Kampala, it was in the jungle.

I had to leave it all there any money I had or tied to the property, all lost. I left with nothing, no bags, no clothes, no suitcase.

I started all over here. All my family are over here, there is no one left in Uganda all of them left. Come over here all of them, over here Canada or America.

I came here because I had a British Passport. I would not go back; I’m nearly 77 for what going back? I am retired over here cannot start again and again. Yes, the next generation have and will have a better life but they will forget it. Forget our country in this country, they will forget our religion, our language...everything.

Ramon Patel I remember a lo t fro m 1972, that so rt o f thing you can easily remember. Life was over there but here, but here the weather is cold in India and Africa the weather was good. In Africa I had a sugar farm 37 miles from Kampala, it was in the jungle. I had to leave it all there any money I had or tied to the property, all lost. I left with nothing, no bags, no clothes, no suitcase. I started all over here. All my family are over here, there is no one left in Uganda all of them left.

Come over here all of them, over here Canada or America. I came here because I had a British Passport. I would not go back; I’m nearly 77 for what go i ng back? I am retired o v er here canno t start again and again. Yes, the next generation have and will have a better life bu t they will forget it. Forget our country in this country, they will forget our religion, our language...everything.

This is my parents and grandparents story. It started with them and it will not be forgotten with them. This book is my testament to the memories of this event in the hope that it should not be repeated to any culture and to remember the identity and life we lost and the identity and life we gained.

This is my parents and grandparents story. It started with them and it will not be forgotten with them. This book is my testament to the memories of this event in the hope that it should not be repeated to any culture and to remember the identity and life we lost and the identity and life we gained.

www.SlightlyOutOfFocus.co.uk