The Ugandan Medical Safari... Part V -- New Role as a District Medical Officer

After a year of my work in Kapchorwa I was transferred to Mubende Hospital, 100 miles to the west of Kampala. I was assigned the role of the hospital in-charge as well as head of the district medical/health services. Being rather new in the profession and the country, it was a daunting task for me. 

When I arrived in Mubende, there was no vacant accommodation for me and the guest house also happened to be fully occupied. The hospital made arrangements for me with an army doctor stationed there, who happened to be from Tororo. The doctor and his family were very nice and good hosts to me for the few days I stayed with them. However I cannot recall his name.

Back in the day in Africa, when you travelled to a new town, you almost always stayed with other expats, Indians or other foreigners. It didn't matter whether you knew them or not, or even if they were from the same profession as you. This fostered new bonds, new relationships. Over the years I played host to a motley set of visitors. This constant stream of visitors made life in the bush much more enjoyable.

Later when I moved into my own house, I had a visitor from Kampala's Mulago Hospital, a TB specialist by the name of Dr Anil Patel. He had come on an official visit to the hospital. I tried to book accommodation for him in the guest house which he declined and said that he preferred to stay with me in my house. My problem was compounded in those days since my houseboy had quit all of a sudden, and I already had to do manage meals myself alongwith my call duties. I was finding it diificult since I hardly knew any cooking and in the Mubende of those days, take-out was not an option. I explained my predicament, but Dr Patel insisted he could manage with tinned food available in the shops there, like baked beans, beef and bread and the like. He was an old settler and he knew very well how to manage and survive. Later I learnt Dr. Patel migrated to Australia in 1972 at the time of exodus of Asians. On another occasion, an American water engineer, a Mr Wintergreen, happened to stay with me and I was able to look after him well.

Apart from the usual hospital duties with emergency calls according to the duty roster with my three colleague doctors, I had to fulfill my responsibility towards the health centres/dispensaries in the district. This involved a regular inspection and timely supply of the drugs and foodstuff for the patients from the district headquarters. I also had to oversee staff discipline. For this I would undertake the tour of the various centres at least once in a month to see myself if everything was in order or to study the issues and find a solution. During one year of stay in Mubende, I must have attended Mbale court for the medico-legal cases at least 10 times, a distance of 269 miles. It was a good change for me and gave me some confidence of driving too in my new Ford Escort.

In Mubende district, I managed to establish a new dispensary in Naluggi, where there was virtually no medical facility available in the vicinity for the people there. In this task, I was able to elicit a good cooperation from the Catholic church there. I was very proud of this.

The months went by and soon it was time for me to proceed on home leave after the completion of my first tour of service in late May, 1972. I kept my car with the PWD in Kampala for safe custody, and travelled by East African Railways from Kampala to Mombasa via Nairobi. It was a good, memorable and comfortable journey. I got to see the beautiful countryside of Uganda and Kenya as well. The rolling hills, verdant greens. I boarded a ship, called 'State of Haryana' in Mombasa, owned by Shipping Corporation of India. It was my first journey by sea. I was overcome with sea sickness for the first two days but after that it became a very exciting and pleasant journey in which, among other things, I also got to judge a beauty contest!

The Ugandan Medical Safari... Part IV -- Reconstructing Noses...

How bitter disputes end or get resolved depends on the tempers of the persons involved. The gravity of the anger sometimes leads to weird conclusions. 

When stationed in Mubende Hospital in 1971-72, I was called to the Mbale court for a medico-legal case. I was asked to identify the lady in the stand and testify that she had been my patient earlier at Kapchorwa Hospital when I worked there. When I finally saw her, I couldn't help but feel amazed. 

The lady had come to me months before with a bloody wound over the tip of her nose, the result, as I was told, of a nasty dispute. As I examined it, I was horrified to see that this was actually a human bite. Some of the skin and subcutaneous tissues were missing. This was a very suitable case for cosmetic surgery, but sadly that was not available in remote Ugandan hospitals. But I had to do something. I took the patient to the theater and under local anesthesia, surgically repaired the wound. 

I repaired the wound as best as I could, and it wasn't bad at all. But the final shape of the tip of nose was not all that satisfactory cosmetically as it might have been under the expert hands of a plastic surgeon. But that was the best I could do under the circumstances. Recovery was uneventful, and I forgot about the case till I saw the lady in the court.

I was amazed to see her reconstructed nose. The lady had finally taken the culprit to the court for the bite and was demanding compensation and punishment. I finally had an opportunity to take a closer look and found that my effort, after all, was not that bad. Her appearance was fair and the nose was not so crooked as I had thought earlier.

It was indeed satisfying to see her recovered with little disfiguration...

The Ugandan Medical Safari... Part III -- Certainly Not A Cupid's Arrow...

After a very brief stay in Tororo, I was transferred to Kapchorwa Hospital. Kapchorwa is in the eastern part of Uganda and is located at a height of 6,000 feet above sea level. The beauty of the lush green mountains is breathtaking. The air is cool and crisp almost all the year around. I still remember vividly the red earth that stood in stark contrast with the lush green mountain slopes. Kapchorwa is in the Mount Elgon region of Uganda, a massive volcanic mountain that borders Kenya. Kapchorwa is home to many indigenous tribes, most notably the Bugisu tribe, that were still very traditional in those days.

It was here in Kapchorwa that I saw the beginning of the biggest upheaval in the history of Uganda. The brutal dictator Idi Amin took over the reins of Uganda on 25 January, 1971, in a sensational coup that took place while President Milton Obote was attending the Commonwealth Heads of State conference in Singapore. 

On the same day, I was summoned to attend court in Tororo in a medico-legal case concerning a patient I had treated while I worked there. The matron of the hospital dissuaded me from traveling to Tororo as it might not be safe. She was quite careful in using the words of caution regarding the events unfolding there in Kampala at that point of time. Somehow I was made to understand the gravity of the ground situation. 

Eventually I sent a radio message (these were the days when you used Ham radios for long-distance communication) through the kind (and understanding) police there regarding my inability to attend the court on some vague pretext. 

Over the next few months I had the chance to meet Uganda's most brutal dictator (some call him butcher) in person. Idi Amin visited Kapchorwa a few months later. He was traveling around Uganda telling people his reasons behind the coup. I had a close look at him, while I sat a few feet away from him with other town functionaries on the dias. He and his reasons seemed so genuine at that time.

Kapchorwa had a salubrious climate, which I enjoyed for a year. In those days there was no electricity in the town, but it didn't bother us much. The hospital did have a generator but we had to use paraffin lamps at home. Here I was completely on my own, the only doctor in a 60-bedded hospital. There was no one like Dr Gosavi to turn to in an emergency. I had to manage everything alone with my little acumen for almost one year, June, 1970 to May, 1971. There was no radiological facility, so for X Rays I had to send patients to Mbale Hospital, 32 miles away almost once a week. Referrals were also made to Mbale Hospital.

One morning I received a patient and one look at him left me dumbfounded. None of my textbooks in medical college had prepared me to handle arrows. The patient had an arrow piercing through the epigastric region (upper abdomen). As the patient was lying on the stretcher, the arrow stood stuck vertically. It was the kind of thing you'd probably see only in movies.

My first reaction was that perhaps it could be pulled out. But then it dawned on me that the structure of the arrow could do more harm on its way out. I asked the anesthetist in the theater to explain the structure to me. He illustrated with a diagram that the arrow had a set of fangs on two sides, hence pulling out would mean more damage to the tissues or organs. It was illuminating to me and I patted myself on the back for not taking quick action without understanding the full import of the situation. 

Eventually I had to make an incision at the entry point of the arrow in the epigastric region just to widen the approach and visualise the fangs directly and gently remove the arrow without hurting tissues or internal organs any further. I inspected the inner tissues and stomach which were okay. Then I sutured the wound, and kept the patient on intravenous fluids and nil food by mouth for two or three days. He recovered well and was later discharged from the hospital in a satisfactory condition.

This patient also taught me something -- something I couldn't have learnt if I was working in a big city hospital -- and I felt hugely rewarded when he recovered.

The Ugandan Medical Safari... Part II - Dealing With A Ruptured Uterus

During my stint in Tororo, I had to handle one of the most difficult cases in my first few years as a doctor. One night during my emergency duty I was called upon to see a lady. She had gone into labour for some hours and then suddenly her contractions stopped. When I examined her, I found her to be full term pregnant, but my heart sank when I realized that her contractions/labour pains were absent. On palpation, her abdomen was quite tender and to make things worse, The foetal heart was not audible. 

I had never seen a case like this before. Being raw and very much inexperienced, I was baffled and couldn't make out what the problem was. I had to consult Dr. Gosavi, who in some ways was like my mentor there. I told him everything I could deduce about the patient and related all my findings to him on phone. After a few more queries, he deduced the uterus had ruptured and asked me to get the theater ready and shift the patient.

On opening the abdomen, we found that the uterus had ruptured transversely (horizontally), in the lower segment. Luckily for the patient, it was just at the site where we make an incision for the lower segment ceasarean section. Through that gaping wound, we removed the dead foetus, and then sutured the uterus in a way that it would not complicate matters when the lady had children in future. After that, I watched in amazement as the lady made a steady and uneventful recovery. It was a great solace for me especially to see her recover so well.

No amount of classroom teaching can prepare you enough for a real life situation. When faced with a patient in a grave situation, you need to keep your wits around you and do the best you possibly can. For me there was a lot to learn through my seniors such as Dr Gosavi there. I realized that I had to take big strides in terms of learning on the job and gaining experience so that I could be useful to the ailing community.

The Ugandan Medical Safari... Part I

Going to Uganda as a young medical graduate with a lot of enthusiasm to serve offered me an immense opportunity to grow as a doctor. There was plenty of work to do and a lot to learn at the same time. Soon after I was exposed to the patients there with routine and casualty duties I realized that I was inadequately prepared to handle them efficiently. The internship training period we had in India was not properly utilized, as the young medical doctors would feel elated, having finally qualified after slogging for so many years of rigorous theoretical education. Also, working as a House Surgeon did provide ample chance to handle patients but in that particular specialty only in which you are posted. 

The work in Ugandan hospitals in the seventies expected you to handle cases on your own especially while on emergency duties. This was really a very challenging task and required a sound practical knowledge and grit to tackle the patient.

Here, I found that the young Ugandan doctors were bolder and better prepared as they had already been exposed to cases like minor simple fractures, obstructed Hernias, hydrocoele, minor amputations, D and C, Caesarian sections etc. while in medical school. They would approach such cases with more confidence, whereas in our case we were rather timid or just not able to deal with the problem at hand. This was due to faulty or inept practical training and lack of serious attention to acquire skills on the part of interns or both. However, it was imperative to acquire greater practical skills in order to fit into that medical setup where medical facilities were few and there was a dearth of the specialists as in Uganda of those days.

In such situations, we had to handle the cases with our utmost and sincere abilities, and despite the challenges, the results were 80-90% good. It was sometimes a do or die situation: in case we didn't try to handle a complicated case, there were greater chances of fatality. Referring patients to higher centers was not always feasible most of the time due to lack of transport or fuel, or the sheer distance, or all the factors combined. If one took the plunge, generally the outcome, would be rewarding and greatly encouraging. I stayed in Uganda for 11 years and worked in hospitals like Tororo, Kapchorwa, Mubende, Hoima, Masaka and Mulago in Kampala. This gave me ample clinical work to practice my skills, learn on the job and draw a great satisfaction at the same time. Unfortunately this sojourn of mine (1970 to 1981) happened to coincide with the tyrannical and murderous regime of Idi Amin, a very trying period especially for Ugandans.

Kwaheri Uganda!

The summer time spent in India during April-June, 1980 was a harrowing experience especially for the children as they were not accustomed to the heat which is quite extreme in the months of May and June. We started our return journey and on arrival in Nairobi, thought of visiting my sister Kamla and his family in Lusaka, Zambia. So, we travelled to Lusaka by Kenya Airways and had a glimpse of relaxed and tension-free life in Zambia. It was also a good extension of our holiday. While we were there in Zambia, there was a welcome proposal for us to explore an opportunity to work in that country. It was a politically stable and peaceful country under the dynamic leadership of President Kenneth Kaunda, popularly known as KK, who advocated the philosophy of "Humanism". So I appeared for an interview there in the Ministry of Health and then we moved back to Kampala, Uganda, and resumed our duties in our respective workplaces.

At the time of renewal of work permit, I was informed by the Ministry of Internal Affairs that the permit could not be renewed as I had already enjoyed the privilege of staying and working in that country for 10 years which was the maximum limit. As such, we were expected to leave the country. Meanwhile, we were being issued three monthly short-term work permits to allow us time to make arrangements to return to India. On the contrary, the Ministry of Health was not very keen for me to leave, as they were really short of manpower those days. They promised to solve this tangle at their own level and told me to hold on. The main reason why people wanted to leave the country was general insecurity and unavailability or scarcity of essential goods. 

However, as we were contemplating our future course of action, I received an offer letter from Zambia. It gave us an option as well as time to plan out our strategy to exit Uganda. It was not an easy decision to make as we were so well entrenched in our work and life there. My wife Meenakshi was teaching Biochemistry at Makerere University, Uganda's most prestigious university, and I was working at Mulago Hospital, the country's biggest hospital. In fact, it was painful to end our beautiful relationship with Uganda. 

One fine day I presented my resignation letter to the Ministry of Health, routed through the Medical Superintendent of Mulago Hospital, Dr Jagwe. At first, he refused to accept it and asked me to go home and discuss with my wife and reconsider or reverse our plans. We had taken the decision after careful deliberation. After a lapse of 3-4 days, I once again presented my resignation letter which he accepted with regret and forwarded to the Ministry. Similarly, Makerere University did not want to lose Meenakshi, but had to relent.

We spent our last two days in Lake Victoria Hotel, Entebbe, before taking the flight home in July, 1981. We left after spending almost 11 youthful years in Uganda doing work energetically under the most trying conditions during Idi Amin's despotic rule. At the time of departure from Uganda, we had a very strong conviction that one day we will be back here once again as we had fallen in love with the Pearl of Africa. Despite our great desire, it hasn't materialised so far.

Strangely, our daughter Neelima who went to University of California, Berkeley, on a Fellowship, got the opportunity to visit Uganda for a project on coffee and climate change through the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. She was only 2-plus when we left Uganda and she went there in 2010 after about 30 years. Through her, we visited Uganda once again. She sent us photographs of Makerere, Mulago, Rubaga Hospital (where our son, Rajeev, was born) Masaka, Kapchorwa, Sipi Falls, Jinja and Mbale, all those nostalgic places where we had worked. She even visited our apartment in Quarry House of the Makerere University campus where we stayed for some years.

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.

A Tale Best Forgotten...

My stint at Kapchorwa Hospital in 1970-71 was an experience of a different kind. Kapchorwa is situated in eastern Uganda, about 65 km. from Mbale, the nearest 'big' town. Kapchorwa sits at an altitude of 5,900 ft. above sea level and is akin to what we would call a hill station in India. The hills of Kapchorwa -- even today -- have a certain unspoilt beauty, and the air is crisp and cool. Kapchorwa is close to Mount Elgon that sits on the Uganda-Kenya border. Just outside the town after a sharp bend in the road, one can see the famous Sipi Falls, a majestic sight of three waterfalls that plunge down the mountains at the edge of Mount Elgon National Park. Kapchorwa is also home to the famous Bugisu tribe. 

Back in those days, Kapchorwa was the district headquarters, even though it was a very small place. Our district hospital was also a small one -- with about 60 beds and a single doctor (me). This was small-town Africa in the early 1970s. There was no electricity in the town those days, but the hospital did have a generator (strictly for hospital use only). I was the only expatriate in the town. In contrast, the nearest town, Mbale, had plenty of Asians and other expatriates as well.

I was new to Uganda, and often felt lonely in Kapchorwa, where I was in the midst of complete strangers. I looked forward to my occasional visits to Mbale, where I would go for shopping for groceries and vegetables once a week.

Though occasionally I would have Indian visitors in Kapchorwa. They were welcome indeed. I looked forward to such visits -- it was a rare opportunity for me to interact with people from my own country, and may be converse in Hindi or Punjabi. 

One fine day, a Punjabi friend of mine based in Kampala, came over to stay with me. He was establishing a saw mill in that region and hence, was a frequent visitor. On one of his visits, he had brought along a patient, a sardarji, working for him. That is how we became friends. After that, he would drop in whenever he came to Kapchorwa. 

On one occasion which I remember very vividly for reasons best forgotten, he visited my house with his wife. I was delighted as usual to meet one of my kin. We chatted for a long time over cups of tea. After a while, my friend's wife used the toilet. Then they said goodbye and left. 

Later I discovered, much to my disgust, a nasty piece of turd floating in the pot. I felt nauseated and all the happy feelings of spending a pleasant evening with fellow Indians evaporated. I flushed the toilet several times, but the lump stubbornly, decided to stay put. I was at my wit's end. I was trained to deal with the most complex of medical problems, but nothing like this. I also had no intention of leaving this unpleasant task to my houseboy, lest he wonder what my visitors were like. 

I had tried every trick in the book -- and failed. Left with no option, I employed Plan B. I brought a big stick from the garden and got to work. Over the coming (and very unpleasant) 15 minutes, I broke the lump into several smaller pieces, struggled to keep myself from vomiting and after multiple flushes, I got rid of the damn thing.

I have many pleasant memories of Kapchorwa -- but this one is an ink blot.

"Tororo Or Toronto" - What Is The Difference?

Back in 1970, I was fresh out of medical college and had just arrived in Uganda to work with the Ministry of Health as a doctor. Uganda was called the 'Pearl of Africa’. It was a very beautiful country and everything was so different. The climate was salubrious, even though Uganda is on equator. Uganda is at an elevation of about 3,000 ft. above sea level. It is home to tropical forests and sits on the shores of the great Lake Victoria, the largest freshwater lake in Africa. The people were simple, straightforward and happy-go-lucky. I loved the place and its people.

All these early experiences were novel to me, a young man who had stepped out of India for the very first time. I would write long letters to my folks back home describing the beauty of Uganda and its people. Those were the days when we heavily depended on our age-old postal system. That was the age prior to the advent of cell phones and internet which have transformed communication drastically today. Even the phone was a novelty in India of those days, and trunk calls were extremely rare. Handwritten letters were my only connection to my people back home. Unlike today, I was a very prolific writer of letters to my friends and people at home. 

I was posted to a district hospital in Tororo in eastern Uganda, bordering Kenya. Tororo is famous for a strange rock formation, known as the Tororo Rock, and back in the day, there was a vibrant Indian community in the town. 

It would take about a week to send or get a letter from India. One day when I got home from work, I discovered to my pleasant surprise that I had got an airmail letter from one of my cousins. Funnily though, when I saw the date stamps, I realized that I got it after a month and a half. I was stumped. Unlike today, the postal service was pretty efficient back then. 

I looked at the stamps closely, and made a startling discovery. The reason for the delay was that the letter, instead of coming straight to Tororo, Uganda, was mistakenly dispatched to Toronto, Canada! Who knew that the names were so similar! When the error was realized in Toronto, it was redirected to the correct address, as second class mail (via sea mail). And that took a long time to reach my new home in Uganda. 

Similarities in the names led to this faux pas. And it also gave me a cause for amusement.

Journey To Liberated Uganda

The  fall of Kampala on  April 11, 1979, led to the ouster of dictator Idi Amin and his seeking refuge in Libya with his fanatic companion, Col. Gaddafi. Restoration of peaceful conditions in Uganda, made displaced people, like us, think of returning to Uganda. 

In the mid May, we started our journey for Kampala, along with two other vehicles - those of the Sehgal and Uppal families. Mrs. Murad, a Lecturer in the Zoology Department of Makerere University, along with her daughter and son accompanied us in our car. 

We thought of having a halt at Webuye with the Sachdev family, as it may be too tiring for the tiny baby - the two-week old Neelima. The Sehgal and Uppal families proceeded straight to Kampala. On our arrival at night in Webuye, we heard the sad news of Mr. Sachdev having lost his father in India. The family was in mourning. We were so sorry to learn that and offered  condolences. However we continued our journey next morning and reached the Uganda border. The stern soldiers guarding the border were greeted by Rajeev with jambo, habari , majuri and asanti sana. They were so amused having been greeted by a three year old child in Swahili, and waved us to proceed on without any check. That was the first welcome change for us.

We were still very cautious and careful , but the rest of the journey from Tororo to Kampala was uneventful and smooth. Travelling in your own car with the constant fear of your vehicle being snatched away at gun point had gone. Indeed a beautiful and  pleasant experience in those dreadful days soon after the  dethroning of murderous regime of Amin.

We entered Makerere University campus in the afternoon and soon met our neighbor Mr. Mugambe, a Lecture in Physics whom we had handed over the keys to our  flat before we left for Kenya.. He assured us that our flat was safe and most of the household effects had been shifted to his house for safe keeping to avoid looting by the unruly goons during the last days of Amin. It was a sheer delight to be back in our apartment with the goods intact courtesy Mr. Mugambe, and had a refreshing cup of tea  from them. We were very pleased with the noble gesture on the part of the Mugambe family having looked after the safety of our apartment in Quarry House. 

A few days later we  presented him with a wristwatch (procured from a duty free shop in Kampala), as a token of love for his kindness. He refused to accept it as he didn’t want the price for whatever he did for us. He relented on our explaining that we can not pay back for his generosity. It was just a small  token  of love on our part. He informed us that his wrist watch was taken away by soldiers sometime back. One can imagine our relief of finding our household intact as we had reposed faith in our Ugandan neighbours. On the contrary those of us who locked their houses and left, returned to find their houses  ransacked  and devastated. Such was the kindness of our Ugandan friends, like Mr. Mugambe, who would live forever in our hearts!

Years later in 2010, Neelima visited Kampala and happened to meet Mr. Mugambe - he was just same, he had hardly changed. We too look forward to meeting him and other friends, when we visit Kampala. God willing, that day should come soon!

After returning to Kampala, it was time for us to start our work in our respective places.  It was again a period of shortages in Uganda. We somehow managed to procure milk and foodstuff for kids  and ourselves.  During that trying period  we did our best to run the household and help our Ugandan friends as well wherever we could do. 

Neelima  and Rajeev were very  beautiful and sober kids and were growing up and learning things at a quick pace. As parents we did not face much difficulties in rearing them up. It was a beautiful  and rewarding  experience to cherish. In fact they were a great source of joy to us. 

We thank God Almighty for those little and unexpected joys!

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.

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’!!!!

Oneness with Nature!

By 1975, I had been in Uganda for almost five years, and had been quite busy with my professional work plus facing the problems associated with the exodus of the Asians. So far, we hadn't been able to visit any National Park in the country. Now since my wife Meenakshi had also joined me in Masaka, we decided to finally have a little break and go on a safari and see the animals in their natural habitat.

The very famous Murchison Falls with its National Park was renamed by Idi Amin as Kabarega National Park in the 1970s, after King Kabarega  who reigned over Bunyoro around the end of the 19th century. The King had resisted colonization by the British, was arrested and was exiled by the British to the Seychelles. King Kabarega died in Jinja, in 1923 en-route to Bunyoro while returning from exile. This episode always sounded so familiar to what had happened in India, when the freedom struggle was being fought.

The change in name was never legally promulgated. The name of the falls and the national park reverted to Murchison Falls following the downfall of Idi Amin. This area was explored by a British explorer, Sir Samuel Baker, in the 1800s, who christened the falls after Sir Roderick Murchison, the then president of the Royal Geographical Society.

We drove to Hoima in our Ford Escort. The journey from Masaka to Hoima via Kampala was an exciting first long drive for us as a couple. It was a pleasant experience to be together on this journey. The weather was fine, though not very cool as the month of December is usually dry around these parts and the greenery also diminishes a bit. 

At Hoima, we spent the night with Dr. Rajendra Kumar and his family. Dr. Kumar had been there since I left Hoima, and was living in the same house where I had lived while in Hoima. Being there once again felt good even though we were there for a short while only. Dr. Kumar had a very energetic and lively 3-4 year-old son, who was very social and hospitable. It was he who would offer beer and insist on replacing the bottles once they were empty, and also would remind us to replace them in the fridge. It was quite amusing to see him work like that. Not only that, he was also sipping from his father's glass but his parents did not seem to mind it or were rather encouraging I would say. After a good night’s rest we started off for the park early in the morning. Dr Kumar and his family joined us for the trip to Murchison National Park. Hoima to Murchison Falls and National Park took us about three hours.

On reaching Murchison National Park, we had some snacks and rested a while in Paraa Safari Lodge which is tucked away in this away beautiful hideaway far from the urban locales. Paraa is now owned by the Madhvani Group, a business conglomerate, owned by an Indian family. Incidentally, the Bollywood actress married the scion of the Madhvani family in 1974. Indeed, India has been tied to Africa in countless ways!

Then we roamed around in the park and enjoyed some stunning views. We saw quite a few baboons, elephants and hippos in the water. This was the first time we had seen animals in their natural habitat. The lodge was full of tourists of various nationalities, enjoying the sight of wild animals in their natural environment and relishing the hospitality of the Ugandans. There was a lot of hustle and bustle. It was a very good and refreshing change for us in a relaxed atmosphere, far from the turmoil of the city.

Watching the wild game in the National Park was an amazing yet exclusive experience. We were amazed how the droves of animals roamed about freely, oblivious of human beings around them close by clicking the cameras to capture them. A strange thought crossed the mind that we are now viewing these animals at close quarters and admiring the creations of nature in their own environs roaming about, yet we leave no opportunity to poach and kill them for sport or food. It may be for relishing the game meat or for trophies to be displayed very proudly in our living rooms. We tend to derive a great pleasure out of all these misadventures of ours. How nice it would be if we can have a peaceful and meaningful coexistence on this planet. Then there wouldn't be any danger of extinction of some of the species which are already rare to find. Those will just be in history books for our future generations to learn and see their pictures like the dinosaurs which disappeared from this earth millions of years ago. Surely, it does help to be in tune with Nature and its beings, that's what Africa taught me.

But at that moment, Meenakshi and I felt the oneness with Nature!

The Next Phase in Masaka

Two years of hectic activity in Hoima after the exodus of Asians was a unique experience. To work there in the country with depleted work force and the absence or near absence of essential things was a great learning period for doctors like me who were there and had to see that the services continue as normally as possible. For that one had to be imaginative, learn to live with minimal needs and innovate here and there, not only at home with regard to food , and also in the hospital while dealing with the sick patients. Working to the maximum capacity under those trying conditions and achieving satisfactory or good results was there to feel rather than describing on the paper in a few words. One does get the feeling that a human being has a lot of potential. Sadly this potential is not exploited.to its maximum for fear of failure or lack of guts or incentive or all combined together.

Now, it was a time for me to proceed on vacation to India in January, 1975. I had to be home by the third week of the month in order to be able to participate in the marriage ceremony of my youngest sister, whereas the elder one to her had already been married in October, 1974 in my absence. I started my journey well in time for that. Boarded the flight in Entebbe and arrived in Nairobi. The connecting flight from Nairobi to Bombay was delayed from London by 7-8 hours because of fog and the inclement weather. On demand the airline put  us up in a hotel in the mid of the town,called Hotel 680. The nomenclature appeared a little odd. Our first question to the receptionist was about the name of the hotel..He clarified that there were 340 double rooms in the hotel , hence, the Hotel 680. After that the flight to Bombay and Delhi was uneventful. I reached home just in time to partake in the marriage activities, and everything went well as planned.

I had a few quiet days of rest and then feverish activity of search for a suitable soul mate started through print media, of course. The quest ended towards the end of February and I got engaged to my wife, Meenakshi, and the wedding was solemnized in mid April. She had just completed her M.Sc. (Hons. School) in Biophysics from Panjab University in January. 

As my leave was about to end, I left for Uganda five days after the marriage. My wife was to join me later. The primary reason being the fear that without visa she may be denied entry in the country. However, later on it was confirmed that she will be provided with visa on arrival at the airport. Meenakshi arrived in Uganda in mid July,1975. We visited Mr. DK Goyal, Chief Roads Engineer based in Entebbe. They were like our parents and welcomed Meenakshi like a new daughter in law, which gave her a very good feeling in that far flung country. We continued to be in touch with the Goels, who later moved back to Delhi and settled in  East of Kailash.

Meanwhile, I was posted to Masaka Hospital, eighty miles south west of Kampala. There Dr MK De, was the Medical Superintendent. He was one of those 20 or so doctors recruited from India in 1969, I being one of them.

 In the initial days at Masaka, I had to stay in Hotel Tropic Inn till my house was ready for occupation after a week. I understand this hotel got destroyed in the bombing raids of liberating forces in 1979. 

Masaka at that time had a motley of expatriates of various nationalities, comprising Bangladeshis, Canadians, Dutch, French, Indians, Pakistanis and Russians. In the hospital there we had two Russian doctors, Magomedov, a surgeon and his wife a gynaecologist, two Bangladeshi doctors and a young Ugandan doctor as well.  There was one Dr Ronald Schuurs from the Netherlands, who was working in the bush at the Villa Maria Hospital, half way between Masaka and Kampala. We had a great interaction with his family.

We used to mix freely with one another without any prejudices. We used to often visit a Pakistani Magistrate, Justice Mehndi. He had migrated from Meerut to Pakistan in 1950s and his wife was from Lahore, a Punjabi. Mrs. Mehndi's Punjabi was like music to our homesick ears! The Mehndis would take care to ensure that our meals would be without beef, in deference to our religious sentiments. How times have changed now - I wonder how difficult would be interactions between Indians and Pakistanis today!

Along with the De family, Meenakshi and I took a few memorable weekend trips, including a boating expedition to Lake Nabugabo, near Masaka. Mr. Reddy (from Hyderabad), who was working with Tata Motors, in Kampala, joined us for the trip, alongwith his family. We stayed for two nights in the cottages on the shores of the lake, where early each morning, the fishermen would bring their fresh, early morning catch alongwith with some fresh fruit. This lake had the distinction of being the only lake in Uganda that was free from Bilharzia. The interactions we used to have with expatriates in Masaka, helped Meenakshi settle fast in the alien land.

But we must say that even Ugandans went a long way in making our lives a lot more richer. While we were in Masaka, we met a Ugandan District Education Officer (DEO), Mr. Katende. While conversing he got quite impressed with my wife's credentials, he immediately suggested that she must teach and must not sit at home, as there was a shortage of teachers there. Later, he spoke to the Headmaster of Kitovu Senior Secondary School and asked us to go and meet him. The Headmaster immediately appointed her as a teacher, and she started her teaching career. 

As and when we met again the DEO, he was of the opinion that she would be more suitable for the University and not for the school. On his insistence, we went and saw the Head of the Biochemistry in the University of Makerere in Kampala. He kept her testimonials and thesis for M.Sc. (Hons. School) for study. Later she was appointed as a Teaching Assistant and later a Lecturer in the Dept. of Biochemistry., and joined there in February 1976. 

Before she could start working there in the University, Dr AJ Lutalo Bosa, Head, Dept. of Biochemistry, gave me a letter of his intention of appointing Meenakshi in the University. The Health Ministry was quite amenable to transfer me to Kampala, saying that to get the services of two expatriates they will have to provide only one house, and one set of family air fare to India and back. Thus Uganda was gaining by utilizing the services of two officers. This gave a good foresight to their very pertinent thinking beneficial to their own country. With time, we developed a very strong bond with the Bosa family that still continues on till this day.

Years later, our daughter Neelima undertook a journey back to Uganda and met the Bosa family - she stayed with them for a day and they did lay down an impressive feast just like one would do for the homecoming of a loved one. Through the pictures, we could gather, it was a lot like a big family reunion.

Perhaps it is true that bonds like these do not depend on how often you interact. These bonds are timeless and priceless!

Building Bonds, Post Exodus..........

Life in Hoima was going on normally with lot of work to do and very busy day in and day out. I happened to meet a gentleman called Anton Pillai from Sri Lanka, who was working in a Tea Estate about 10 miles away from Hoima. It was good for me to know him and visit the family occasionally for a change. Of course they were regular visitors to Hoima for their shopping spree. They were quite regular in attending the Catholic Church on Sundays. He had two lovely daughters and a son.

The British Manager of the Tea Estate asked me if I could attend to their workers, who may need medical assistance, once or twice a week. I welcomed the suggestion and started attending patients twice a week. While going there the emergencies in the hospital were always on mind and had to keep pace with all that though it was a little tight and kept me on my toes. I was enjoying the work and meeting the challenges fairly well. Mr. Pillai's family left for Sri Lanka after a few months. He also followed suit after sometime. They settled in Jaffna, though he was working in Colombo. As we went on leave in October, 1977, we took British Airways flight, passed through Seychelles onward to Colombo and then India. There we happened to see the book, State of Blood, on Idi Amin and Uganda by our former Health Minister Henry Kyemba who had to go in exile to save his skin. We bought the book, read it and left it in India, because it was a banned book in Uganda. The book elucidated the atrocities and horrors committed by Amin and his unruly soldiers.  In Colombo, we met Pillai once again and caught up with each other. His elder daughter got married to a Norwegian and shifted to Oslo.

While in Hoima, I got acquainted with the Rev. Fr. Willie Audette, a Catholic Priest, who was a fatherly figure to me, very social and amiable. He was stationed in a parish 35 miles away. He used to visit Hoima very often for the basic needs and would always make sure to meet me. It was so kind of him to do that. I developed a close kinship with him which continued for many years afterwards. Pillai and I visited him in his parish and it was a treat to see how they were living in the bush with a nice pucca brick house with their own generator to provide electricity and to pump up harvested rain water in a concealed tank in the false ceiling from the underground tank. It was an eye opener for me to see all these luxuries in the jungle - much like jungle mein mangal. 

Life in Uganda was tough those days,  more so in the rural setup, but seeing all this gave an insight to the vision of the pioneers to surmount difficulties. In one of his letters Fr. Audette told of his first journey from  Canada to Uganda in 1936 to take up his priesthood took one complete month. Now a days it takes 24 to 48 hours, such a drastic change. On our trip to India in 1977, he sent a gift to one of his old friends, Dr. Barkat Singh who was once in Mbarara many years back and then returned to Jaipur to lead a retired life. Dr. Barkat also reciprocated by sending a shawl for him.

Later years when my wife joined me in Masaka in 1975 and we were relocated to Makerere University and Mulago Hospital, Fr Audette would always visit us and spend some quality time with us. She joined Dept of Biochemistry of the University  and I was attached to the Medical OPD in teaching hospital, Mulago Hospital in Kampala in 1976. 

As we decided to leave Uganda for good in 1981, Fr Audette didn't want us to go. He was trying to find a place for me in Kilembe Mines Hospital whereas he was located in Fort Portal at that time, even arranged an air ticket to enable me to go to Fort Portal for an interview. We had to decline the offer very politely since we had already decided to relocate ourselves in the greater interest of our family. 

A few years afterwards he also got retired and went back to Canada. There he went to Lennoxville in a house meant for the aged and retired priests. We were always in touch with him especially during Christmas and New Year, exchanging greetings and catching up with each other. In 1989, when he learnt that my son was interested in Africa and wildlife, he posted him a book titled 'Serengeti Must Not Die', which covered the journeys of a German father son duo - Bernhard Grzimek and Michael Grzimek, both zoologists, who extensively toured the Serengeti and Ngorogoro. We received the book over two years after he sent it, and it remains a prized possession in our household, till today!

In January, 1993, he wrote a very nice letter. Once there in Canada, he was feeling 'home sick', saying that he felt stranger among his own people after having spent more than 45 years in Uganda. Me and my family too feel very "homesick" a lot and do yearn to visit Uganda sometime!

In 1994, there was no response to our Christmas greetings from Fr. Audette. In 1995, again no response, but did get a reply from an unknown person but a friend of Fr Audette, also living there in that house informing us that Fr. Audette was no more and had left for his heavenly abode sometime back. It was so good of him to have conveyed this tragic piece of news which plunged us in grief, otherwise we would be in dark. That was the time for us to pray to God for this noble soul to find solace in heaven and to let us bear this loss with courage.

In our years abroad, we developed strong bonds with unknown people of different races and religions. That feeling of closeness was as great as a family-feeling, a very simple human bond, that perhaps is hard to build in today's materialistic world!