Raising A Family...

One has to experience how life changes with the arrival of the first baby. And it is much more taxing for the mother than for the father. Our son, Rajeev, brought these changes in our lives gradually. Now as we were three in the family, we had to cater much more to the needs of the young one. We had to be home in time and relieve the nanny looking after him and take over the duties. Doing all this used to be a pleasure and gave us immense satisfaction. There were times when the nanny wouldn’t show up in the morning as we were about to leave for work and we had to take a quick decision to take him along with us. It was his godmother, Meera Rao, who stayed in the Makerere University campus, who would  take care of him as  Meenakshi was busy taking her classes in the University. Sometimes her daughter Shambhavi would be there to play with him.

As it went on, we noticed that Rajeev was picking up a bit of English to converse with the nanny or with us for his small needs. It dawned on us that he will not be able to pick his native tongue, Hindi, if we didn’t converse with him in our mother tongue. We had already seen some children of our friends who felt shy to talk in their own mother tongue and that was a great handicap. That’s how we avoided this pitfall.

Our home leave was due and we planned to travel to India in October, 1977. It was nice to be back home and meet everyone gradually during that period. Coming from the salubrious climes of Kampala, Uganda, we wanted to avoid the sultry summer months. 

Before returning to Kampala, we decided to visit Kashmir at the peak of winter season. Everyone advised against our visit because of extreme cold, and that too because we had a small child. Despite all that, we did go there for four days. It was a very good holiday for us seeing scenic places like Gulmarg and Pahalgam.

It was a strange coincidence that I met after 10 years one of my old friends and classmate in Medical College, Amritsar, Surinder Julka who was also on holiday from the UK. He was too had a like kid much like us. This encounter at the Tourist Reception Centre, Srinagar,  was unfortunately a very short one as his bus was leaving at that very moment for his destination.

Kashmir was relatively a peaceful place those days and we had enjoyed a lot in the hotel, houseboat as well as in the shikara. One must admit that we were the so called older people in the bus as most people were young couples on their honeymoon. However, the long cherished visit to Kashmir, the ‘Heaven on Earth’ was a memorable one.

Our return journey on 31 December, 1977 was rescheduled by Kenya Airways and they were kind enough to offer a free drink on New Year’s eve to usher in 1978. As we touched Nairobi in the morning, we heard a sad news that an Air India plane taking off from Bombay on New Year day for Dubai, carrying most of the labourers going to Middle East to eke out a good living, plunged into the Arabian Sea killing all the passengers. It was such a great tragedy for Air India, a great airline of that time, as well as the families of those who perished there.

We were back to our routine after our return. There was a possibility of getting an apartment on the Makerere University campus and we were very keen for that. It would save us the hassle of travelling daily for 4-5 km to our places of work. It was only during early June of 1978 that we succeeded in getting allocation of the house.

It was on June 6, 1978 that we received a telegram informing us that Meenakshi had lost her father on June 4, 1978. Such a tragic news brought gloom to all of us there. It was a great and irreparable loss.  He was in active service of All India Radio as an Editor of the Hindi news service. In fact, the news of his demise was flashed on All India Radio, external service meant for East Africa. Somehow, we missed the news, and got to know later via the telegram. A visit to India was contemplated, but was abandoned for it wouldn’t be of much use at that stage. It was also a time for us to relocate ourselves in Makerere University campus in the building, Quarry House.

It is worth mentioning here that our daughter, Neelima, a journalist, happened to be in US on a Fellowship in the University of California, Berkeley in 2010. She visited Uganda for a project. She made it a point to visit the same apartment, B-8 in Quarry House, after 30 years, and took snaps of the same furniture we used there. It had a great sentimental value for us. She saw most of the university buildings housing various departments, including that of Biochemistry where Meenakshi, had worked. 

Neelima also met Dr. Albert James Lutalo-Bosa, who was the head of Biochemistry at that time and later retired as the Vice Chancellor of Kyambogo University. In fact, the whole family was there to receive her and hosted a sumptuous dinner for her. She spent two lovely days with the family.  

Later she visited some of the hospitals where I had worked, viz., Masaka, Kapchorwa and Mulago. She met some of our old friends still there. She also went to the Gurudwara and the temple in Kampala. All those photographs are a great treasure for us.

The New Arrival!

My wife, Meenakshi, and I were getting used to the life in Kampala in our respective fields. She being a raw hand in teaching was given a firm encouragement and positive support by her boss, the head of Makerere University's Biochemistry Department, Professor Bosa. This went a long way in boosting her confidence in herself in those initial stages of her career. My work was cool in the hospital as usual, without any major excitements, much unlike the experiences in the interior.

As life was moving on, we were expecting our first child soon in April, 1976. Meenakshi was carrying on with her normal routine work at home, her teaching work and our social engagements. It was Easter time and there were four holidays including the weekend. As  per routine we visited the Gurudwara  and some of our friends on Sunday. Meenakshi was not all that well and she showed some signs of pain and discomfort by evening. I got her admitted to the nearest Rubaga Hospital at about 11 PM. Rubaga Hospital was just about10 minutes drive from our abode. By next day she had been in labour pains for almost about 24 hours. A young German doctor on duty seemed to be very busy attending to some other patients as well. Since I happened to be there, he asked me to take care of her in the labour room itself. It was then that she delivered our first born a son. It happened to be Easter Monday evening. 

It was a great relief and time for jubilation since the delivery was normal, smooth, safe and without any complications with the grace of Almighty God. A few hours after delivery, she was moved to the room and asked to take a bath as against our traditions in India with so many taboos and rituals associated with post delivery period. All went well against so many odds. Justice Asthana had to delay his departure for circuit duty to Mbale the next morning, because he wanted to be around at this critical juncture and also because, as per Indian traditions, he wanted to feed our newborn some honey (shahad chatana). To our son, he was his always his Nanaji (maternal grandpa).

That was the occasion when we could see so many acquaintances coming forward to give us a helping hand in that strange land of Uganda where essential commodities were very much in scarcity. We cannot forget all those little gestures, which never made us feel out of place. All were so keen to celebrate the occasion with full gusto. On 10th day after the birth, a havan was solemnized.  The Sehgals, Uppals, Raos, Asthanas and Goyals assisted us in organising the prayer function. These wise and elderly couples alongwith  some other friends were like parental figures for us. I am so sad to state that many of them are no longer in this world now. It was during the havan that Mr Uppal insisting on naming the baby and we decided to call him Rajeev!

As per Indian traditions, we were not supposed to use the new clothes for the new arrival. Hence some old and used clothes were provided by one Mr. Lotay of Entebbe, who later migrated to Canada. When in Masaka, before moving to Kampala, we met a very humble and amiable Pakistani teacher, Mr. Bhatti, from Petaro, Pakistan. His wife had made a very kind offer to stitch dresses for the baby. On our shifting to Kampala and as they learned of the birth of Rajeev, Mr. Bhatti made a special journey to Kampala to deliver the clothes. We didn’t have enough words of thanks to convey our feelings to this Bhatti family of Pakistan. Only we can pray to God to shower His blessings on them. These are some of the great experiences we had in that land, for which we are so nostalgic.

Time passed and both of us were managing to look after Rajeev. Our houseboy was there to help with the household chores, and an ayah (nanny) was also engaged to take care of Rajeev during Meenakshi’s duty hours, which were quite minimal after one month of maternity leave. That was the understanding in her department. We were fortunate to have enough time at our disposal  between two of us to look after our child. 

A new problem cropped up. For a proper communication between ayah and Rajeev, we had to make sure that we talk to him in English and he learns how to speak and understand the language and be able to communicate with his ayah, who were using broken English. He started picking up the language well and could convey meaningfully to some extent as best as a child could do at that age of one or one and a half.

Hakuna Matata, Kampala!

Once formalities completed for us to move, we shifted to Kampala in February, 1976. After a few hurdles, we got a house allocated in the Mutagwanya Estate near the Rubaga cathedral, with its Rubaga Hospital managed by German doctors, about four miles away from our working places in Makerere University and Mulago Hospital. The housing estate was situated on the Rubaga hill and it had a very beautiful view of Kampala city. The estate had 10-12 beautiful independent houses, each with a lush green grassy lawn with trees around that made it very pretty. 

Settling down in Kampala became much smoother with the great and timely help of the Asthanas. Till today, we can’t forget their help and feel greatly obliged towards them. Our ties with them as a family grew stronger and stronger as the time went on. 

Kampala enjoys a wonderful location, closer to the Lake Victoria at an altitude of 3,900 feet, on seven hills, namely, Kampala, Kasubi, Mengo, Namirembe, Rubaga, Nsambya, Kololo plus others like Nakasero, Tank, Mulago and Makerere hill. Kampala is not very far from the Equator. Close proximity to the lake coupled with a good altitude makes the climate very pleasant, with temperatures varying between 20-30 degrees Celsius with frequent tropical rains and the greenery around.

As the tropical rains were very frequent, temperature used to come down significantly and the roads and pavements got cleaned up - giving the city an even more beautiful appearance. Words cannot do justice to what this feels like -- one has to experience it to know it.

We reported at our places of work and started our duties diligently. Meenakshi started her work at the Department of Biochemistry, Makerere University. The university has a beautiful campus on Makerere hill with various departments and housing complexes for staff -- good independent houses and apartments in the form of flats in larger buildings. Makerere was once a great university, considered the best in East Africa -- the likes of VS Naipaul and Paul Theroux, both great writers, taught there in the 1960s. In fact, Paul Theroux, who lived in an apartment on the campus, wrote about his return to Makerere after three decades in his travel book Dark Star Safari.

Dr. AJ Lutalo Bosa, Head, Department of Biochemistry and Meenakshi's boss, was very humane and understood very well the hesitations and apprehensions of the newcomer. That made the settling-in in teaching an easier process for her.

Kampala being the capital, was far more cosmopolitan and had quite a good expatriate community. Despite the 1972 exodus, Kampala still had a huge number of Indians. Being in Kampala brought us close to to our own countrymen. Meera Rao who lived on the university campus was a great friend and was like an elder sister or mother for Meenakshi in difficult times. Mrs. Meera was an excellent cook and we still remember her cooking. Her good advice or suggestions were solicited and welcome. Her husband SRA Rao was with the UNDP and attached to the Department of Statistics at Makerere. They had two loving kids - Shivkumar and Shambhavi.

Amongst the old timers were the Bowry brothers who were elderly and like our parents. Their wives happened to be real sisters too. They hailed from Ludhiana, Punjab, and were originally working with the legendary East African Railways and later became builders. With their progeny well settled in Nottingham, UK, they were merely enjoying a retired life on their properties here and remembering good old days.

At the Bowrys' place we happened to meet Dr. Berry, who was working for the WHO. His daughter-in-law Ritu Beri is a world famous fashion designer today.

Another important friend, Kaka Harjeet Singh was a very good car mechanic and his Ismaili wife was a very good host. They had four sons, the younger two were twins, never still and real naughty. He used to help us maintain our old Ford Escort.as a special case, though he was catering for the police vehicles only.

I was assigned to the old Mulago Hospital in the General OPD. My stint at Mulago was more of a sedentary sort of life with hardly any emergencies. It was a lot different from what I used to have in the hospitals upcountry which had the minimal necessary staff and posed a real challenge regarding how to manage our patients well. Soon life started to come to a normal track and we were getting used to it gradually. Of course I would have occasional duties in the Casualty Department on Sundays to relieve other doctors. Those days Mulago Hospital was very modern, with six storeys. It was a teaching hospital and referal of repute in East Africa. The new building had been inaugurated by the Duchess of Kent in 1962 and was a gift of the British government to the people of Uganda at the country's Independence. On its rolls were famous and dedicated faculty like Dr. Dennis Burkit, known world over for Burkit’s Lymphoma and Prof. SMM Karim who is renowned for research on Prstaglandins as well as Prof. Krishna Somers, who is now settled in Australia.

It was always a good experience to interact and mix-up with so many people from various sections, from the hospital, university, UNDP experts, the locals long settled in businesses. But they were now devoid of all that enthusiasm because of  Amin’s policies. That made the well-minded professionals upset and a little depressed. There is no denying the fact they had toiled with their blood and sweat to bring their businesses and enterprises to such great heights.

The temples and gurudwaras were good social meeting places for all of us especially on Sundays and on festive seasons. The community lunch, langar, in Kampala's gurudwara, was a welcome change for homesick people like us, who are used to eating the simple dal roti in India. We used to relish this food  from the core of our hearts. Even more enjoyable were the interactions with the friends from a cross-section of the society comprising Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis and Europeans. The atmosphere was so congenial and friendly despite all the problems Uganda faced. The Akhand Paath, Dussehra, Holi and Diwali were special occasions to celebrate with all the people flocking in great numbers with all the gusto. Dandia and garba dances by the Gujaratis were a treat to watch. For people like us from north India, it was something novel, special and very graceful. It was an exhilarating experience worth mentioning.and enjoying.

Despite shortages of essential commodities, security problems and the greater risk of venturing out at night, there was a spirit of taking life as normal and facing it boldly. That’s how the Ugandans went about their business as usual dismissing all their worries with a casual remark of Hakuna Matata, Swahili for ‘no problem’!!!!