Idi Amin By Kamil Donmez
Primary Source
This is the picture of the Idi Amin’s office destroyed by the Tanzanian soldiers on the picture you can see the destroyed photo of the dictator I chose this picture because it shows how much Idi Amin was hated.
Secondary source “And he used his new position to size even more power for himself” I used this source to show what human was Idi Amin. It shows clearly that Idi Amin was a human that wanted to seize power he climbed higher and higher in the hierarchy to gain more and more power and the more power he had the more he wanted. Summary and Reviev This Book tells the story of a cruel dictator of Uganda and how he got his power. It is a great book if you are interested in the specific dictator and his history it is also good for people who want to know the history of Uganda through the 70tis.
One of the main reasons that this book is a great choice are the detailed pictures through the book that show exactly what was going on in the life of the dictator. It takes 5 min to find a picture in the book with a caption. This helps us imagine what exactly was happening in the time. You can see a one example as my primary source. The book shows a lot of details about the life of dictator. If someone is interested in this particular time period or dictator this is a very good book to choose. It describes the entire life story of the dictator from his early childhood to his death you can find in book things like when he served the British army and many more. The Dictatorship
I was in my bed next to my friend Taban when those awful noises coming from downstairs started again. It was a while since I slept. Whenever I closed my eyes in my mind were the images of the pile of bloody rotten corpses surrounded by rats and people all in blood screaming and crying for help, for help that no one would hear, no one except us. Even when I sleep I am woken up by the nightmares that continue. I wanted to help them but Taban said that if I do I will end up like they did. So I stayed and worked thinking that the guilt would go away. But it didn‟t. It stayed in me like a boiling fire that was burning me from inside until there was nothing but an empty shell that used to be a human.
My name is Mugabi I am 22 years old and I am a citizen of Uganda. I work for our president Idi Amin in exchange for a home and food. I live with my friend Taban on the bottom of the president‟s home where the servants live. We are so low that we live underground and we are just above basement that we are strictly forbidden to enter. Every night we could hear strange noises coming from downstairs that made it hard to sleep. We wanted to ask boss what were they but we were not to mix into his business and everyone that asked him about that was fired. So one night Taban and I went to investigate. We had to be careful because if anyone would catch us we would be punished severely. We sneaked through the long corridor passing the rooms of our friends while the sounds were getting louder and louder like something in basement was calling us in to find its secrets. We finally got to the wooden doors „leading to the underground. To our surprise the doors were not closed. The doors lead to a dark and long stairs. As we got lower and lower into the ground the sounds were getting louder and clear now they sounded like cries for help. When we got on to the end of the floor we met another doors with rusty crates at the top. They were closed but we could still see through the crates. The blood rushed from my head, making me faint, as I was paralyzed by fear. The image of tortures unfolded in front of us one side there was an empty old chair stained with blood that gave me goose bumps. Next to chair was a pile of decomposing bodies in blood with rotten parts and rats feeding on them. Some of the people were still alive chained in corners and screaming for help. The picture paralyzed me and it was Taban who woke me up saying “We have to go or someone will see us.” “Yes‟” I replied still shocked.. We came back to our room and went to beds but I could not sleep. Sounds of cries for help echoed in my head. The
next day we had an argument. I thought that we should tell someone and help those people while Taban said that if we do we will end up like them all in blood and shouting for help, half alive. Finally we decided to not tell anyone and live like nothing happened but I could not forgive myself. It is now 3 weeks since we saw the incident and Taban behaves like nothing happened but I can‟t sleep and am a big ball of anger. The incident changed me. I think about the bodies and torture and I don‟t know what to do. I think Taban noticed it and he wanted to talk to me because just as I was rushing through the corridor to my next work when someone hand stopped at my forearm. “I have no time, “ I said turning around to find my friend Taban. “I have to be in kitchen in a second.” “This is important,” he said looking straight in to my eyes to show me that it was something of high case. “Ok but make it as quick as possible.” “I want to talk to the boss about the basement this horror has to end“ My eyes flashed in interest. “Thank you” I said to my friend while running to the kitchen.” The next night he was gone and I didn‟t see him the entire day. At the end I went to ask one of the bosses what happened to him and he said that Taban had left. This was weird and I didn‟t know what to think about it. Thinking about why Taban would leave so quickly I went to bed. The sounds started again but this time it was different I recognized them those were the same as the ones that woke me up every day, those were the shouts of my friend Taban. I was shaking from fear thinking that I will
faint in a second. The boss must have found out he knew about the torture. I knew I had to help him even risking my life. I sneaked into the kitchen where there was a phone. It wouldnâ€&#x;t be short before they would find me and I would land the same as Taban but I had to do it. I picked up the phone and dialled the numbers‌ Citation s Dougherty, Steve. Idi Amin. New York: Franklin Watts, 2010. Print.