Crossing Borders ... & The Equator!

Once the dictator was out, the atmosphere in Uganda seemed to be free from the fear. The white clouds floating in the blue sky at their own will, birds flying on their own infused a fresh lease of life in all of us. The Ugandans were jubilant once they were free from the clutches of the despotic regime of Idi Amin. It appeared that the normal life of an average Ugandan which had been derailed was back on the tracks. That feeling was great and can be appreciated by only those who have been oppressed for years, and yearned to breathe a fresh air.

Our daughter Neelima now about a year old, was just about a few weeks old as we returned to Kampala from Nairobi. Essential commodities terribly in short supply or not available at all added to the difficulties faced by all the inhabitants. However, most of us learned to  manage despite all those problems. Jugaad or innovation came in handy and we knew how to survive those hard days. One becomes so resilient, compromising and tolerant to take all the problems head on. No one can demonstrate these qualities better than the Ugandans themselves.

In April, 1980, our home leave was due and we decided to travel by road in our Fiat 127  to Nairobi, via Kisumu. Before we embarked on our journey, we went to see Asthanas who were staying in the Kampala International Hotel as he was yet to be allotted a suitable house for a sitting Judge of the High Court. It happened to be Rajeev's birthday and celebrated it in a small way there with them. On our onward journey to Kisumu, we came across a concrete structure on the roadside indicating that we were crossing the equator, that is, we were in the middle of the planet, Earth. A queer feeling, of course!

We had a halted in Kisumu for the night. We enjoyed the hospitality of Gurudwara in the form of accommodation and the langar. It was gracious. We had an acquaintance here with one Mr. Vallabhdas R. Jethwa, (a Government uniform contractor in Kisumu) who used to come to Kampala to explore the possibilities of venturing into the business as there was a vacuum created by the exodus of the Asians. At his place we were greeted with a typical Gujarati nashta and a dinner that evening.  

Again it was in Kisumu that we met S. Pritam Singh, the owner of the Textile Mill in Mbale. He was also staying in the Gurudwara recuperating  after a cataract operation, and we had a very pleasant interaction with the family. It will be pertinent mentioning here that Pritam Singh was included in the delegation accompanying Amin, when he went to attend a U.N. session in New York after the expulsion of Asians. It was just a ploy to mitigate the impression that he or his policies were racist. 

Next morning we started off for our onward journey. Soon there was a magnificent view of Kericho valley. It is here that the tea estates were there on either side of the road, with dark clouds in the sky. The rain had just washed the roads and made our safari more enjoyable. The fertile soil with  the slopes and plenty of rains result in a good quality of tea which is exported and enjoyed worldwide. The roads were good and journey was memorable, passing through Eldoret which is at a height and very cool. 

On the road side they were selling pears, though of a peculiar shape, but really very succulent, sweet and of good taste. As you climb up the road to Eldoret and Nakuru, there is a great breath taking view of the Rift valley down there which extends from north of African continent covering many countries to the south. 

The beautiful Flamingos flying in hoards in the valley  was a panoramic sight to watch. As we were travelling and soaking all these beautiful scenic spots in our minds, it dawned upon us that it was a wise decision to travel by the road to Nairobi, rather than flying from Entebbe.

The holiday in India was hectic, travelling here and there and meeting our dear ones. Soon the weather turned very hot as is usual in deep summer. Rajeev and Neelima, unaccustomed to such a hot and sultry weather, felt uncomfortable. For them it was a harrowing time. They developed a severe prickly heat and had really bad sores over their bodies which took quite some time to heal. During that time we had to curtail our movements outside to the minimum.  Of course, they were very comfortable as soon as we came back home in Uganda.

Turmoil in Uganda, Ouster of Idi Amin & New Beginnings!

The beautiful country of Uganda was undergoing many upheavals under the murderous regime of Idi Amin and trouble was simmering underneath. Uganda was in a “State of Blood” – a term used by Henry Kyemba in his book on Uganda under Idi Amin, with the same title.

Outwardly, people were going about their businesses as usual and everything seemed to be normal. One could sense the deep-rooted disquiet and frustration amongst the populace going about mechanically with their duties in their places of work. Discussion on the prevailing situation at that time with anyone was fraught with the grave risk to their own lives as well as that of their kin. No one would venture to open their mouth to complain about all the problems one was confronted with in those hard times.

Breakdown in the civic amenities was very frequent. To get piped water on the first floor in our flat in Quarry House and elsewhere became a very constant problem. It was an exercise we had to undertake, almost every   morning, to fetch water from our neighbours on the ground floor for our daily needs. Our good and helpful Ugandan neighbours always offered their help in this daily ritual which went on for quite some time.

The Ugandans abroad, self-exiled, were organising themselves as one cohesive force. This was especially true on the southern front with the tacit support of Tanzania. They organised and collected their resources and formed a formidable group to stage a fight against the illicit regime of Idi Amin. Towards the end of 1978 and the advent of 1979, these rebels had gathered the determination, resources and the force to take on Amin. They mustered enough courage to move northwards and were bent upon liberating the country from the shackles of the dictatorial regime in Kampala. These forces galvanised under the command of well-organised leaders were firmly determined to uproot the callous and blood-thirsty forces of Amin. The stage was being set to overthrow the regime. The people of Uganda, fed up with the atrocities of Amin, were all for the rebels to remove the oppressor with force. The southern front became a hot-spot and these liberation soldiers entered from there and confronted the government forces loyal to Idi Amin. Casualties were bound to happen, but were limited as the government forces unwilling to fight, found themselves on the losing front - they were on the run and were retreating as the liberating forces advanced towards Masaka.

As the liberating forces advanced towards Masaka and later to Kampala, the government soldiers were retreating without putting up a fight. Unwilling to face them, these undisciplined soldiers started looting civilians, snatching their vehicles at gunpoint so that they could flee the battlefield and head home. The liberating forces were steadily and cautiously heading northwards. They were not hurrying so that there would be minimum casualties. They captured Masaka, and took time to reinforce and regroup themselves to march forward and for the final assault on Kampala, the seat of authority. In the process, Masaka suffered a lot. Most of the buildings in the town were destroyed including the hotel, Tropic Inn (which has been recently resurrected).

As the forces moved towards Kampala, we started hearing occasional gunshots on and off.  With these developments, tension started mounting amongst the civilians and the expatriates like us. Madanjeet Singh, our Indian High Commissioner in Kampala, became very active. He along with his staff took great personal risks in protecting Indian expatriates there. His First Secretary, Bhoj Raj, being on leave to India, Deepak Mishra, the Commercial Attache, gave a great helping hand in assisting him in his endeavours to evacuate Indians to safety. On March 29, 1979, the first convoy of Indians led by the Indian High Commissioner left Kampala. Some of us on the Makerere University campus decided to stay put in the safety of our homes there. Our reason for staying back in Kampala was simple: my wife, Meenakshi, was expecting our second child towards the end of April, and we were of the opinion that the long travel to Kenya under those circumstances won’t be without grave risks. We had somewhat decided in our minds to be ready for the emergency delivery at home, in case it was dangerous to  venture out,  even though Mulago Hospital was only 10 minutes drive from our residence.

As most of the Indians on the university campus and many others in the town had chosen to leave for a safe haven in peaceful Kenya, the few left behind on their own will, had very strange feelings of loneliness and were prone to the grave dangers looming large on the horizon. The next morning, High Commissioner Madanjeet Singh with his Indonesian wife, Kiki, and Mr. Mishra were there in Makerere to persuade the remaining Indians to leave. He talked to all of us and tried his best to convince us to leave for Kenya. He was very kind and offered to let Meenakshi travel in his official Mercedes, which would be much more comfortable than in our small Fiat 127. Meenakshi politely declined the generous offer for she wanted to travel with Rajeev and me in our own vehicle.

We had to pack all our valuables, emergency drugs, etc., to meet any eventuality on the way. The valuables included our passports, our degree certificates, clothes to be used for the coming baby, and just a few dollars equivalent of 80 Kenyan Shillings. As we left the campus for the High Commissioner’s residence in Kololo, we came across unruly and frustrated soldiers who were trying to grab vehicles at gunpoint in order to flee the scene of action. We had to accelerate in order to escape their attempts to loot. We got a sense of great relief after reaching the high commissioner’s residence. A Sri Lankan took a ride along with us.

As it happened, some Pakistanis, Bangladeshis and Sri Lankans also joined our convoy of  over  20 vehicles or so, led by the High Commissioner’s car with the Indian flag fluttering in front. The Pakistani and Bangladeshi missions did not care much for their citizens, while Sri Lanka which did not have a presence in Kampala had requested India to help. These nationals were allowed to join the convoys led by the Indian mission for evacuating the Indians to a safer destination. Hats off to our mission which undertook such a heroic task at grave personal risk and even extended the facility to others who wished to join. Imagine Pakistanis travelling under the Indian flag today? It would be sacrilege!

The convoy was stopped at various checkpoints manned by Amin’s soldiers who were told that the Indian mission in Kampala had organised the safe evacuation of its citizens to Kenya and hence the movement went unhindered to the border with Kenya. Indian High Commission officials based in Nairobi were there to take over the further march to Nairobi. We were given a warm welcome in the Kenyan territory and offered refreshments. Children like Rajeev were particularly jubilant to get Coke, a rare commodity in Kampala. There was a sigh of relief on safely crossing to the border.

I must mention that High Commissioner Madanjeet Singh recently wrote a book - Culture Of The Sepulchre, in which he elaborately documented some of the events of those times.

It was a sheer luck that one of my acquaintances, Mr. V.B. Sachdev, a chemical engineer working with the Pan African Paper Mills, a Birla Group concern in Webuye (formerly known as Broderick Falls), was there at the border looking for me. The convoy moved ahead to Webuye where a night halt was organised for all of us and food was served. A Hindi film, Charas, was shown to entertain us, so called ‘refugees’ from Uganda and divert our minds from the unpleasant events of Uganda.

The convoy was to leave the next day for Nairobi. Of course, we stayed back with the Sachdev family, who didn’t allow us to proceed further in that condition. It was here in Webuye that I removed the sutures on a lacerated wound that Rajeev had sustained over his chin about eight days earlier in Kampala when he dared to ride his tricycle on the stairs of Quarry House!

Again, it was here that we learnt of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s hanging in Pakistan. While we were there, we explored the possibility of the ensuing delivery in Kisumu Hospital, 60 kilometres away. It did not seem like a very safe proposition. After gratefully enjoying the hospitality of the Sachdev family for about two weeks, we decided to proceed to Nairobi for better medical facilities.

In Nairobi, we stayed with the Gill family, whose daughter, Pammi, was Meenakshi’s classmate in M.Sc. (Hons. School) at Panjab University, Chandigarh. Our first and foremost task was to register her with the nearby Aga Khan Hospital, which was close to their home at Parkland in Nairobi. Mrs. Gill, or Aunty as we called her, was away to London at that time because of a bereavement in the family there. Our stay there was quite peaceful.  Mrs. Sandhu, a neighbour and friend of the Gills, was a very helpful lady and took care of us in the absence of Aunty.

Our daughter, Neelima, was born on April 27, 1979, and there was a great relief and joy on the safe and normal delivery after so much of turmoil in our lives at that time. It is difficult to imagine how we surmounted all those problems coming one after the other, perhaps the Almighty God wanted it that way. That is why we could cross those hurdles easily with the grace of God.

And soon after that we were to return back to Kampala, as Uganda was in the throes of a new beginning after the regime change.