East African Asians, the Wahindi

Sorry sorry sanna

2007-09-23T11:22:00.000+01:00

Sorry, sorry sanna....!

Oh gosh! I have been away so long. Life has been hectic but readers have continued to amaze me with their interest and support. Asante sanna, "thank you too much", just as our home worker used to say when overwhelmed by my family's simple generosity. The reason of the gratitude? An odd shillingi here for washing the car or a pat on the back for killing the mouse at the back of the kitchen cupboard.

Wahindis have been appalled by the behaviour of an old Sikh woman from the Panjab who has been jailed for having her daughter-in-law, Surjit killed and then thrown into the River Ravi. Surjit drowned and was never seen again but the old demonic sassu ji ( mother-in-law) will have to learn to swim in the river of truth and justice as she prepares for a lonely existence in jail. Lonely? Not really, the old mama ya matata may have drug peddlers, murderers and prostitues for company. When in Rome, be like the Romans they say but the old bigot will have to swim her way out of self imposed moral malaria. The mosquito of justice has just bitten where it hurts - her conscience.

How many Surjits are still suffering while their mother-in-laws, husbands and new families that are acquired after marriage are stabbing them daily with the knife of mental cruelty? Was this also a problem in the old homeland of the wahindi? What do you think? Of course it was! There were probably no murders and no conveniently located rivers to throw the daughter-in-law into the river of hate but there were many women who were exchanged into the life of mental demise on a daily basis. The notion of exchange comes from acquiring a good for nothing husband who never learned to stand up to his dominant parents but expected the wife to calmly surrender to his lust when the old mama was apparently sleeping.

The wahindi ya zamani has to become the wahindi ya kesho. Lets look forward to morally reclaimed tomorrows when the old morally corrupt acid in the mama is released before they can harm any more daughters in laws.

Kalwant
Wahindi ya kesho

The Asians have not learnt their lesson, they say!

2007-01-15T02:04:00.000Z

Various commentators have responded to this blog, for which I am grateful.

One ndugu (brother) from Kenya, who describes himself as a Black Kenyan says that there is still no "social interaction" between the Asians and the local people. If this is true of all sections of the two communities, I am truly saddened. In all social interactions there has to be a common purpose - business, religion, sport, performing arts and professional links which open up peoples' homes after close working brings them together. Reciprocity is vital as is the need to respect the culture of the host. Food is often an interesting source of definition and intentions. When in Zambia, my boss invited us to a traditional Zambian meal. For us former Ugandan Asians, much of the food was quite familiar and we made quick work of the various dishes on offer. However, the top delicacy was fried caterpillars and we could not bring ourselves to eat them. The host did not take offence when he found out that we were not eating his favourite dish. On an other occasion, we made dry mushroom curry, which did not go down too well with our Zambian friends. It would be good to hear from our commentator from Kenya. What form of social interaction is not taking place and what are the expectations of people from both sides.

Another commentator, this time from Uganda, seems to be saying that the Asian community is 'still' far too much engaged in business and its own affairs. They are not supporting community development projects and helping the poor. What form of support are the Asians in Uganda offering as far as health and welfare is concerned? How are they falling short of achieving common objectives?

I think there is a need to know more about what the commentators have in mind. Both of them raise a common concern - is this reported lack of Asian input going to create adverse consequences for the Asians? In what way?

When in Chengdu, China, do visit the Indian shops

2007-01-07T22:50:00.000Z

During a recent holiday on the Chinese mainland, it was great to visit the old city of Chengdu, that is the one they have preserved and recreated sections to capture the old glory of the Sichuan capital. It was great fun. The new parts of Chengdu are busy, with major traffic jams during the rush hours. The city is undergoing major expansion and coping with the one major blot on Chinese landscape... smog and general pollution caused by burning coal in factories and from emissions from cars and factories. They are doing something about it, we were told.

Imagine our surprise when the music from the Indian film Swades broke out on a quiet Chengdu afternoon. The music was loud but not intrusive. We were told that music was coming from an Indian restaurant located above a gift shop...it was truly amazing but very welcome. I did not have the time to go check it out but when I had passed the shop earlier, there were only Chinese staff working on the ground floor.

That musical interlude brought back memories of our African friends in Uganda and Kenya who used to sing Hindi songs at popular functions. One of such African musicians was a specialist singer of Mukesh's songs. He was working for Gujarati people and had made a safe choice in copying Mukesh who was one of India's greatest popular singers. It was well known that Gujaratis did not like Mohammed Rafi who was a Muslim, except when he sang Hindi bhajans or religious hymns.

I guess it is a matter of time when a Chinese staff member of the Chengdu shop will be singing songs from Bollywood films. The nearest national border around Chengdu runs along the Tibetan side. Did this factor help to explain why an Indian shop should open up in Chengdu? I hope to post a picture of the shopfront soon.

Can anyone help to explain the Indian influence in Chengdu?

Its best to blame the British. For everything!

2006-12-06T20:55:00.000Z

Tales from the pseudo-politicians' infertile imaginations.....

Here is an extract from a speech, " Weeeeh, in Indiaah, were living in perfect harmoneey, Hindoos and Muzlims, just like a rich cream of milk, until the Breetish came and put vinegarrh into the pott and turned us into a blend of crude yellowish yoghurt".

Do you need to know more about this speech!

The source of this speech? Well, just imagine that you were reading my first novel. The inspiration is based on real situations and real people. The idea of good milk turning sour after a drop of vinegar is added to it is a very common, but an old one. Whenever disaster strikes as a result of disunity, that is, when one party or faction is trying to blame an external force which seemingly brought them disaster, it is considered best to blame the British...

I really wish I could go to the Samosa Festival!

2006-11-15T23:55:00.000Z

Zahid Rajan and Zarina Patel of Awaaz Magazine have organised this festival in Nairobi. Details are presented below. I love festivals and have made creating and running them a part of my career.

The programming, content and scope of the events tell me a few things about the festival directors' vision and how they hope to entertain, celebrate and communicate the culture of Asian diaspora. It would be good to be there, talk to the wahindi and their rafikis. They have selected good films and it remains to be seen how the mix of their audiences respond to this offering.

I have seen the films but would see them again. What I would be most interested in is the Photographic and Art Exhibitions. I would like to see how the creators of the work submitted to the Festival see and interpret the cross-cutting themes in their lives through these artforms.

Congratulations to Zahid and Zarina for putting this together. I wish them success. If they are anything like most creative people who are gluttons for punishment, they will be thinking of the next festival before this one has even ended!

SAMOSA FESTIVAL 16 - 25 NOVEMBER 2006

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE OPENING OF THE SAMOSA FESTIVAL ON THURSDAY 16 NOVEMBER 2006 at 6.30PM

AT THE GODOWN ARTS CENTRE (AROUND THE CORNER FROM CAR AND GENERAL, LUSAKA ROAD AND NEXT TO THE GIRO BANK)
PLS CALL ON THE NOS BELOW FOR ANY FURTHER INFORMATION AND GUIDANCE

PROGRAMME

Photographic and Art Exhibitions Open Daily 10.00am - 5.00pm (Entry Free)

Thursday 16 November 6.30pm - Opening of Festival

Friday 17 November 7.00pm - Indian Dance Night: Entry 300/- pp

Saturday 18 November 10.00am - 4.00pm - Childrens Activities
7.00pm - Kachumbari Sounds: Entry 300/- pp

Film Shows at Alliance Francaise at 6.30pm (Entry Free)

Tuesday 21 November - 'Water' by Deepa Mehta

Thursday 23 November - '15 Park Avenue' by Aparna Sen

The Godown Arts Centre: 555227, 555770

Zahid Rajan and Zarina Patel Awaaz Magazine Website: http://www.awaazmag.com/P O Box 32843 NairobiTel: 0722 344900, 0733 741085 Alternative email: http://uk.f862.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=zand.graphics@gmail.com

I have no evidence but I shudder to think...

2006-11-12T23:23:00.000Z

Do you know of any unwanted and forgotten children...?

It seems to be well known, fully accepted and clearly documented fact that many American soldiers fathered children during their tours of duty in Vietnam. It seems that almost all of of these children were left behind to be brought up by their Vietnamese mothers. I am not aware of any concerted efforts that were made by American servicemen to go back to 'claim' their partners and their children. I think this is an aspect of the war in Vietnam that has not been well documented. I have not come across any serious book which deals with this subject. There was also major occurrence of intermarriage between white men and Indian women during the British raj, leading to the formation of the Anglo-Indian community, which was culturally rich and an achieving one for that.

I would like to know more about what happened in Vietnam and would welcome information from reliable sources.

During the time I was in school in Kampala, one often came across children of mixed race whose fathers had decided to bring them up as Asians. There were notable names in school and divulging them here would be irresponsible. Many of them did well and in the case of a few they also made a name for themselves in several arenas.

So what did really happen to children who were fathered by Ugandan Asian men? Were they living in any predominant geographical area eg the capital or the rural areas? Were they supported by their absentee fathers? I would think not. I shudder to accept the reality that the children were abandoned. I have no evidence but one would hope that the children found stable homes and were able to attend schools of their choice.

However, we also know of some Asian men who married African women, set up respectable homes with them and tried to give the women a proper place in the Asian society. I dont think the Asian society was ready for them. It was racist, judgmental and unfair in a situation where the same society accepted mixed marriages where the women were white. For various reasons, more German women seemed to have married Asian men than any sub-category of 'white' partners. I think there were underlying factors which I will return to in a future post.

Where are they now?

2006-11-11T02:48:00.000Z

The private sadness of lonely fathers...and mothers.

The story of Asian migration into East Africa consists of many cycles of arrivals lasting 80 odd years from 1890 onwards. The rapid departure of a different generation of Asian people from 1968 to 1972 also shows how a large number of the descendents of the early migrants and of the late arrivals left the three countries in a relatively short period.

It seems safe to say that the Asians followed patterns of chain migration into Africa in very much the same way that their descendants and the aging band of early Asians left the three countries on their way out to find their fortunes in UK, US, Canada, Europe and other parts of the world.

The pattern of dispersal of arrivals into Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania was fairly predictable. Incoming Asians tended to settle in the main cities, Nairobi, Kampala and Dar-es-salaam and the minor towns while many went to the rural areas to run shops or to build new centres for development under the watchful eye of the colonial ruler. Some communities such as the Gujaratis were fairly sedentary, having decided where to set up their businesses they remained there until they were expelled. Others like the Sikhs, Goans and Muslims were fairly mobile. They were not tied to specific locations to earn their living. They moved where there were better prospects.

One thing that was common, regardless of the pattern of arrival or dispersal within the three countries, was how many older Asians acquired secret African mistresses, partners or wives depending on how they wanted to express their relationship in law or in terms of morality. The African women were also sometimes aware that the men had left wives ‘back home’ and that they preferred to have children with their Asian wives than with their African partners. Many Asian families were made up of children that were born after their fathers went on ‘home leave’ after three or four years. The childrens’ ages confirmed these returns.

There were also many children of ‘mixed race’ born to African wives or ‘consorts’ of the departing Asian men. They were almost certainly hidden away in the bush towns and left behind with their mothers. There is no evidence of numbers involved but the Asian men carried their secret children in their hearts and minds. There was also acute sadness in a few cases that I am aware of …. the men, who did not have any other children or partners after they were expelled. They lived alone until they died. How did those children cope after they were abandoned?

Time for reflection- is it all about job satisfaction?

2006-11-06T23:39:00.000Z

What are you saying?

I am going on and on, because I am getting useful feedback! Many people who know me are sending emails but I have also received a few comments, the first of which I have approved for publication. It deals with what I called the "moods of the shopkeeper". The commentator has a point - does the shopkeeper's service have to do with his moods or with his attitudes? I think there is a lot in that comment.

Let us deal with issue of "attitude" towards servicing the needs of the customer. Not so long ago, a London newspaper, if I am not mistaken it was the Evening Standard which claimed that Asian shopkeepers in London are very "rude". They are constantly talking into their mobile phones, only stopping to take money, never saying thank you, never communicating verbally and fully and, in general, they do not show respect for the customer. Today, our commentator says that this attitude still persists in East Africa.

When I used the word "moods" I was thinking that the shopkeeper's 'job' is not an easy one. When I go into my cornerstore which is run by Sri Lankans, there is a hive of activity. Those people are busy - bringing in new stock, unpacking, filling shelves, cleaning and also serving customers at the same time. But they are never dull and boring. It is wrong to generalise.

But imagine a shop on a dirt road in Africa or India. The retailers lot is a hard one. The shopkeeper is often isolated, living in overcrowded spaces with a few competitors as company.

Was the attitudinal problem unique to East Africa, or just a feature of the Asian retailers wherever they operate? I am afraid that the latter appears to be more common. I have seen that problem in Zambia, Zimbabwe, India, Thailand, the US and Canada. Retailing is a hard life but do they not make it harder for themselves by not taking an interest in the customer?

Perhaps its I who looks too much like a boring customer and am failing to earn respect!

Don't mock us! We are cleverer than you think.

2006-11-06T01:18:00.000Z

Whatever happened to customer service? What about simple respect for the buyer?

October 1972. I am accompanying an elderly Sikh lady on a 'shopping trip' during our last few days in Uganda. She wants to buy a suitcase to carry her belongings on her last journey out of the country in a few days' time.

We arrive at a shop run by Asian traders and the lady asks for a medium sized suitcase. She is shown a suitcase but from this point onwards the buyer's and sellers minds start to show a huge gap. The shopkeeper wants to charge Shs 2000/- and buyer is ready to pay only Shs 200/- " Why are you charging so much for such a poor quality suitcase?" she asks the trader. Then she goes,
" Remember that the Asians have been expelled and they are all going to need suitcases. What will you do with so much profit? How will get the money out of the country?" she asks while at the same time she wants the trader to be reasonable with the price. Attack and advice dont mix too well.

"Dont worry about the idea of getting money out, Auntie Ji! We have our arrangements in place.... We are not like you Sikhs! We are Gujarati traders and we have our connections...." He made it clear to the elderly Sikh woman that she was in the way and that her comments were not welcome. During the last days of our stay in Uganda, we suffered consequences of escalating demand and fixed supply in this isolated market but never had we seen inflation reaching a factor of 20 plus!

The Asian exodus has created very heavy demand for every single consumer item on display in the shops. Some of the items being purchased are critically essential for the prospective emigrants. Every single piece of "rubbish" that you would have never bought before is now on sale for a markup of 2000% if not more. You are advised to buy quickly, with no comments, and to be grateful for getting the goods. There are hundreds of Asians with fat wallets looking to buy anything worthwhile in order to get their money out of Uganda.

The moody shopkeeper

2006-11-03T00:41:00.000Z

The recycling of the shopkeeper's moods

I want to share a couple of memories with you. Here is the first one.

I am going back to 1961 where I am standing in a shop on Mengo Road, in Mengo, on the outskirts of Kampala, the Capital of Uganda. The Asian trader who runs the shop is bent over behind the counter, attending to a few chores and just as I walk in, he greets me and asks about everyone. I start to look for the notebook that I had come in to buy. "Yes?" he asks, looking at the African woman who is also there, examining the shiny saucepans on sale. "Do you want to buy this, do you have the money?" he asks with thinly disguised impatience. The woman says something meekly. The trader cannot hear anything, nor can I.

" I say! Do you want to buy these sufurias", pointing harshly at the saucepans.
The woman nods, with a half smile but also half closing her eyes, an expression which brings her rounded cheeks below her small eyes into prominence. They are shining with the oils in her body. The shopkeeper starts his questioning again.
" Show me your money, you, or get out!" he shouts. " Maney? ah haff maney" the woman pleads," but it is at houme.... How maach?" she asks having decided which saucepan she wants. "No! You go!" decides the shopkeeper.

Turning to me he says," These ------- people dont have the money and they come in here to waste my time!" he explains. He asks me if I have noticed a smell in the shop. "I cant smell anything" I reply. He says that a smell has been left behind by the woman.

Just then an Asian 'lady' walks in and starts to admire the same saucepans. Turning to him, she asks for the price. He readily gives the price and waits expectantly but also aware that the woman is going to haggle. After a bit of offer and counter-offer, a sale is made for Shs 20/- with no change given. The Asian woman has hardly walked out of the shop when Karin, the local German doctor's wife comes in. " What lovely saucepans! Come here Helga" she shouts to her colleague. " Oh! Mr Patel! How much are these lovely saucepans?" she drools.

" For you, madame, only Shs 45" replies a beaming Mr Patel. " No, no, no, no, noh! Too mach Mr Patel!" at which the trader says, " OK, you doctor wife, I give you for Shs 35". Helga, who has also been watching says," No. Shs 30, final,OK?" with uncertain authority. Mr Patel starts to pack the saucepan. Karin starts to pull some Ugandan notes out of her purse and hands over Shs 30, and starts to walk out with her shining new saucepans.

"Here, madam!",says Mr Patel," Holding out two shillings," You doctor wife! I give you special discount!"

In the course of some twenty minutes, Mr Patel has managed to get rid of one African customer, sold a saucepan to an Asian woman for Shs 20 and then offered a special deal to the German woman for Shs 28/- " I dont think there is any smell in the shop" I remind him. " Dont worry," replies the shopkeeper," These bloody Africans..." he mutters to himself just as he returns to his chores behind the counter. " I am expecting more notebooks next week. You come back, OK?" he speaks out from behind the counter. I realise that he has figured out that I am not going to buy that notebook. He has got rid of me but very politely.

Life in a seller's market

2006-11-02T19:11:00.000Z

Some reflections of Asian business in East Africa

The use of the red colour in the title has a purpose. East African Asians have always made good money from their business ventures in the three countries. Here is a hypothesis - had they been running those business ventures in other markets outside East Africa, they might have not done too well and even incurred horrendous losses. The red ink of the auditor would have made life very unpleasant for them.

The East Africa of 1950 to 1972, when I was there, was a seller's market. I expect that things have not changed much since. There were three ingredients of monetary success - fast growing populations, increasing purchasing power and high profit margins made possible by protection from competition.

These conditions did not just create "the dukawallahs' delight" but also created the environment for higher level investors to make a good bit of money. The dukawallah was the trader, the merchant, retailer or dukandar, who bought at low prices and sold with high profit margins. Simple? Oh so simple but there were hidden costs and sacrifices.

While there were a tiny number of Asian business failures, the majority of Asian businessmen made good investments in markets which wanted more and more suppliers. One group of Asian business houses that did not always do too well were the Sikh building contractors. They loved their drink more than their businesses and, I dare say, even their wives. Notably, a few Sikh contractors also became multimillionaires. Most Asians found themselves running businesses that were operating in expanding markets for consumer goods. As the East African business environment has 'peaked', the Asian businessmen have tried to move into capital goods which require higher costs of entry. Allow me to come back to this later.

And now, lets go back to the red ink. The Asian businessmen also made mistakes which were shielded by the very buoyant markets. I will highlight a few of these 'protected' failures next.

"The Last King of Scotland"

2006-10-30T01:02:00.000Z

Another film about Idi Amin

This is the title of a new film about Idi Amin.

I have not seen it but the tail-end of a radio review that I managed to catch suggested that it is well made, with the actor who was playing Amin could well be in line for an Oscar nomination. Amin is not an easy character to portray on the screen and I guess the film has done well to attract such reviews. I would welcome some discussion on the film here.

I say that much as people try to ridicule Idi Amin and his throwaway one-liners and the easy aspects of his character, he remains a complicated person to play.

The film is shot partly in Kampala. It would be good to see scenes of my birthplace again.

However, one of the most harrowing memories that I have of my childhood is how we saw a dead body on the road to Entebbe Airport. It was being hit repeadtedly by passing cars travelling at such great speeds and those who did not see it in time had no chance of avoiding it. This goes back to 1971, a few months before the expulsion of the Asian community.

There was also a problem with law enforcement. A driver who was involved in an accident on Uganda's roads dared not stop after hitting anything - another person, a dog or a farm animal. A large collection of local people would converge on the accident spot in no time and provide summary rough justice. Many drivers who stopped after an accident were assaulted with vast compensations being demanded by the roadside at any time, even before the matter had been reported to the police.

The love for hot seats

2006-10-21T16:25:00.000+01:00

Oh, how they love committees

Have you ever studied the constitution of an oldstyle Asian organisation?

The constitution is like a tiger's footprint that experienced game wardens can 'read' to describe the age, weight and sex of the tiger that may be standing behind you in a safari park
The constitution is like a blood sample. A medic can can analyse the blood and tell you a few things that your wife should not know about
The constitution is like a wine in a bottle without a label. A trained wine merchant can taste a small amount of the product to tell you the age, source and other properties of the wine
The constitution is not like a cover of a book. It cannot hide the story or provide an ending that you did not plan for.

Many years ago I had the joy of analysing constitutions of Asian societies, temples and cultural organisations. The aims and objectives often bore little or no relationship to the work being carried out by the people. The choice of vocabulary took you straight into the dying moments of the British Raj in India. You could feel the tensions and strife that could erupt if the clauses in the document were not followed. In other words, the constitutions were used to closely define the do's and dont's of the organisation to the extent that you felt safer by staying away.

Then there was the regular problem of understanding the positions in their committee structure. The positions were created to fill the demand for seats by aspiring leaders who could not contribute unless and until they had a title to define their role. However, the status of the aspirants outside the committee detemined the title they were awarded in the committee. So, far from having a person as an ordinary member of the committee, their position in society warranted that they should be appointed as fourth deputy assistant secretary general. It made sure that the person's mind was in perfect focus at all times and that in the event of any open-ended task required urgent action, his status as a secretary precluded him from serving as anything else.

You had to remember that the fourth assistant secretary general could be needed at any time especially if the first three assistant secretary generals had gone somewhere else. You also had to remember that the fourth assistant treasurer could not be asked to help post some urgent mailing about an event. That was the role of the public relations officer or any of his six assistants.

I think I have made my point but I forgot to tell you my title. In general the constitution also told you what the organisation was not! It told you that there was no trust amongst the members, that competition for recognition was rife, that the six treasury roles only had to account for a budget that was less than £500 per year. It was a committee structure with a lot of Chiefs and no Indians.

Jokes aside, this preoccupation with status has had an impact on social and community organisations. Leaders had been described as 'gatekeepers' who decided that there was no problem with high blood pressure in their community, their children were not malnourished or susceptible to abuse, that the women did not need help in dealing with depression. You had to be aware at all times that there was no mental illness in the Asian community. Our social and familial institutions worked so well that mental illness did not have a chance to take root.

All this evidence could not be ignored. It had the wonderful effect of ensuring that the Asian organisations ruled themselves ineligible for grant aid. I leave you to work out the rest but are you sure that you can manage that task without an official title?

Freedom of the pen... I mean keyboard

2006-10-21T01:18:00.000+01:00

Flashbacks

“Ah was angry but a was only joking, you know. I did not say to these Asians, ‘Now you must go, go now….now!,” He is reported to have been saying in his sleep. “If you want to talk about axepulseans, listen to me” he thought. It was nanni, Moses who was also expelled. Do you remember the story of Moses? He was the man in the cinema who had stopped the waters of River Nile. The waters had actually been separated. Eeeeh! Only the feesh could jump from one side to another. Those feesh were clever, you know.

Anda, I remember how the Asians walked through the river. Moses was a British agent. He did not separate the waters of the Nile. The British gave him varray, varray large plastic sheets. He used those sheets to separate the watars. Moses was Israeli. That is why I asked them to leave as well. Amin slowly fell asleep. The electric fan had also stopped working and a persistent mosquito flew slowly around his ear, like an aircraft encircling the Ngorongoro crater. “Thees moskito, ah must speak to Mr Singh”.

There is some truth in this...

2006-10-21T00:51:00.000+01:00

The Sikh Temple in Kampala

The next day, Amin decided that he had to go the Sikh temple in Kampala to find Mr Singh. He arrived at the temple with a peaceful demeanour. “I am looking for Mr Singh” he announced with a pleasant smile, turning his head a little at the caretaker, just as he started to climb the stairs leading to the first level.

“You are looking for Mr Singh? Which Mr Singh, Mr President, because that is the name for all of us!” suggested the new acting third vice-president of the Sikh temple, who had joined the scene. “I am looking for Mr Singh” Amin retorted. “ I am looking for Mr Singh- elektirician”. It was no use, the Sikh leader decided. A way had to be found to deal with Idi Amin. “I am looking for Mr Singh who fixed the lights in my bathroom. I did not axepeyll him, you know?”.
The people of Uganda bore the brunt of Idi’s stupidity. Or so the Asians think to this day. However, was this a case of self-imposed self-importance? Very little has been written about the exact reaction of the Ugandans after the Asians left. Did they celebrate as they had walked into Asian homes? Did they have any concern when they helped themselves to Asian shops? Was there a civil administration which took charge and distributed the loot? We will never know.

By the way, why did I refer to the 'third vice president' of the Sikh temple in Amin's flashback? Well, the majority of the Sikhs had left the country and there were just about enough men left behind to fill the key posts.

Bear with me please. I am hooked!

2006-10-21T00:44:00.000+01:00

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

So it was the people of Uganda that really mattered. They looked up to us. They have been through a very hard time after Amin. They deserve our respect and understanding. Dara’s outburst had sent the Indian packing home but did not resolve the issue. Why should the antics of a mad man cause such a rift in our minds?

Idi Amin was approaching his bedroom. It had been a tiring day. They were saying in the streets that the Asians had started leaving…"Why do these fakkas want to leave so suddenly?” he asked himself. " I had only told them very casually that they could leave if they did not want to integrate!” Amin then looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. He stood back with horror when he saw a grey face looking at him with steam coming out of its ears. Amin was terrified. He looked again and saw that the face had been smiling at him. “Heh, Heh! That pictcha is meeh,” he concluded meekly.

Suddenly he shouted, “Where is the Singha-Singha?” meaning his Sikh fundi – the techie or wizard who had looked after the house. “That bugger can repair anything. He knows, I mean everyyythnig, everything- electrics, plumbing, car mechanics and radios” thought Amin,
“But he has not fixed my bathroom light”. And now this face in the mirror was making faces at him. Amin shouted for help. A night watchman came slowly to the door. Amin turned around and shouted,"I asked for Mr Singh, not you. Now go and get him”. Idi Amin’s respect for the Sikh had led him to address his favourite fixer as “Mr Singh”.

The guard replied,” Sah, the singh mann has gone. He left for India two days ago”. Amin was full of rage. He had not expelled Mr Singh…why did he go as well? Amin was convinced that the Sikh had been brainwashed by the British. They had lured him away with promises of land outside London. Noh, I have an idea, he thought.

How I witnessed a bit of crossfire

2006-10-21T00:36:00.000+01:00

The People of Uganda matter to us

My friend, also from Uganda, was rather annoyed by my constant reminder that it was the people of Uganda who mattered then as they do now. I had been saying that the antics of a mad man must never be allowed to create a rift between us and the people of Uganda who loved us so much. “Loved us? What are you talking about? Where have you been?” He challenged me. Ah well, its time to explain I think.

I am also reminded of a curt remark made by an Indian who worked with me in Zambia. “Most of the Ugandan Asians,” he remarked,” were sons of coolies”. The Asians, in his view, had no identity and no culture. “On the other hand, my father was a Rai Bahadur” he said. “That was his reward for working hard during the Raj and, not only that, mind you, he was working at the highest level in the administration”. My friend Dara Singh was also there. “Oi shaitan”, he said,” Be careful, don’t celebrate the raj too much. I am warning you”. The man from India was not to be subdued. How could anyone overlook his father’s achievements in India? Dara asked,” Do you know why your father was rewarded by the English?” The Indian said, “I have told you already,” sensing that Dara was brewing something. Dara was quiet for a few seconds and then blurted it out,” Your father was an arse-licker. He had served the angrez with such passion that that they rewarded him with a title”. Dara was not to be challenged. He was big and powerfully built just as his namesake, the Dara Singh who was India’s top wrestler.

The nostalgia is overpowering, but nah!

2006-10-20T20:14:00.000+01:00

Why East Africa is losing its charm for some Wahindis

Gosh! I have been away for far too long... I must write more regularly. My sincere apologies to at least one regular reader who complained today!

"The nostalgia is overpowering, but nah!" said my friend. " Who wants to go back to Uganda and why, tell me why, after those ------- threw us out of the country when we were doing our best".

Here in lies a problem. Who should be angry and with whom? It was Idi Amin who expelled the Asians- lock, stock and barell. It was "the Dada" who exercised all his powers vested in him by the State. It is likely, if you try to read Amin's mind as the events unfolded between August and October 1972, that Amin stood in front of a mirror and said," Look, you. I mean 'you'. You have axepelledd those muhindees single handed." Power can be very reassuringly sweet if you are an Idi. You can expell the Asians with no problem about accountability. The mind of the dictator works with alarming detachment, almost in the same way as you drive a car whilst you are drunk. You know where you are going but the detail does not matter. You do not even notice that the person who was trying to stop you was a policeman.

Idi looked into the mirror and saw a very hazy figure. "Noh, it kannot be meeeh", he reprimanded himself. He stood there for a while. Then he looked around and noticed that the lighting in the room was very dull. "Must get those fakking fundis to repair the lights" he thought. Fundi, the techie was the clever Asian who used to fix his lights. " I am telling you thees" said Amin. " I am telling youh, we kaynot be in the duck just becos the muhindi has goan" he reassured himself.

The axepelled Asians who went to make their homes in the UK, US, Canada and elsewhere have fond memories of Uganda. They remember their childhoods there. They recall how they had made so many plans to work there, make the best of their lives and their dreams. The entreprenurial ones think how the Idi-o-tic Amin robbed them in their prime. The older ones who did not know that they were 'pensioners' until they realised that Idi Amin had cheated them by defining them by their age. Also, looking after old parents was no problem for the average Asian family. In fact, there was an element of virtue attached to it old parents must be looked after. This was in the Hindu scriptures. No, you must not ever deny your parents. There was the story of Sarwan puttar, ie Sarwan the docile son who had carried both in his parents together during his journey through life. Sarwan was the model son that evry Asian parent wanted.

The East African experience does matter to the axepelled muhindis...they have not lost their love and affection for the people of those countries. They still remember their childhoods in those countries with a tear in their eyes. It is their children who were born and bred in the new countries of UK, USA and Europe who have no interest in Uganda. After 34 years, Idi's refugees who left in their prime in 1972 are dead, dying or getting old.

My friend concludes,"Uganda is history. Kenya is sunk with corruption. Tanzania made a mockery of itself by adopting those stupid doctrines under Nyerere."

I am lost. I must respond to this in the future.

By the way, my friend meant "buggers" when he referred to them as -------. Have you noticed how so many Asian people use this vocabulary without knowing its real meaning?

No news from the Wahindi in the UK

2006-09-07T01:13:00.000+01:00

Are East African Asians tuning in into UK politics?

One of the charges that were levelled against East African Asians in the days the prior to Idi Amin's expulsion of the Asians was that the 'Wahindi' did not engage in local politics and that they chose to watch important developments from the sidelines. There was a view that this lack of engagement showed that the Asians did not see themselves as stakeholders in the political and "community development" process. The Asians, on the other hand often perceived their role to be 'neutral' with a curious meaning. They felt that it was for the Africans to debate the issues between themselves relating to 'their' country and as such they had 'nothing to do with their problems'.

The Africans saw this attitude as a further example of Asian preoccupation with their own self-interest. The Asian was branded as 'parasitic' resulting in allegations that they wanted to maximise their gains without recognising their obligations to put something back into the country that was making them richer and richer. Asian leadership did not see the need to advise their communities.

How have the UK based East African Asians fared under New Labour in the UK for example? For those who are supporters of the Labour Party, how do they perceive the current leadership crisis? Have they taken a view on which UK political party will serve their interests best?

Lord Navnit Dholakia, the former Tanzanian Asian, has developed strong roots in the Lib-Dem party. Did Lib-Dem groups see Lord Dholakia as a splendid contributor as their Chairman?

Jimmy moved forward to smell the women

2006-08-31T02:00:00.000+01:00

Jimmy was uncontrollable, lunged forward at the women.....

Jimmy slowly walked up to the women and stood there in silence. The women were getting very nervous and those in front of the queue looked around for some signs of comfort. There was no other person in sight. What was going to happen to them?

Then the women heard Jimmy starting to growl. He turned around to see if Mr Singh had followed him. There was tension in the air as Jimmy assessed the situation and started to plan an attack. Again the older woman in the front of the queue decided to use the presence of her mind and ask loudly," Whose dog is this? Why has he been left without a leash?" Mr Singh quickened his pace and caught up with Jimmy and the women. There he was, making growling noises and giving the women a fright. " Jimmy come" said his master and then repeated it several times. Jimmy turned away from the women and came back to Mr Singh, walking by his side like the well trained dog that he was. Mr Singh took no notice of the women who had by then started to carry on with their journey.

Then, suddenly, he heard one of the women say," Jimmy come, come here, Jimmy come" and next heard the whole group of women bursting out in a loud laughter. They were trying to copy Mr Singh talking to his dog. Then one of the women reminded the others how they had been terrified when Jimmy had walked up to them. They also realised that the Asian dog owner had not done much to comfort them. 'Jimmy come, come on"- how strange that this angry dog was willing to listen so much to his owner. One of the women thought, it was quite a strange name for a dog. She had never heard of a dog with the name of 'Jimmy come'.

The time when Rozio made excellent vegetable curry and lentils

2006-08-29T01:37:00.000+01:00

A story of the 'houseboy' who became so good

This was the term, considered to be harmless and accurate enough for describing the hundreds of domestic workers who worked for East African Asians. Some families used the term 'house servants' but in our household we decided that it was insensitive to call them servants. There was also a moral view - no person could become so important and so high and mighty in life that another person would become their servant. Over a period of time I decided to settle for the term, 'domestic worker'.

One such worker was 'Rozio'. I believe that his correct name was Aloizio. 'Rozio' was the result of constant mispronunciation and 'Asianisation' of his name. Rozio first came to work on a building site as a labourer. He impressed the Sikh building contractor with his hard work, courtesy and good nature. He was also very clean and did not smell of tobacco, an aspect that Sikhs were generally very averse to. Smoking was strictly forbidden in their religion and anyone who smelt of tobacco was considered to be lowly and unhygienic. Alcohol was also forbidden in the Sikh religion but no one minded their house workers having a few drinks from time to time, even when they smelt like a distillery. In fact many a house worker benefited from their habit. The 'bwana' or master was sometimes generous and gave them a few drinks to reward them for hard work. But I am digressing...

Rozio's hard work and cleanliness was further rewarded when he was promoted to the position of the site chef, working mainly for the Sikh craftsmen. Many building sites were located hundreds of miles away from the main towns where the contractors and their skilled Asian staff used to live. The staff had to be fed and good, clean Indian food had to be made available. The African staff had to fend for themselves and on a construction site, several fires were lit in the early evening to cook the dinners for all the people who worked on the site.

Rozio soon became an expert cook for the Sikh craftsmen. They taught him how to cook good Indian food with a rich Punjabi flavour. Rozio made good progress and found himself being offered high pay and even a bed in the 'Indian yard'. Then someone discovered a product which was in the form of a cube and wrapped in a yellow paper. He showed Rozio how to add it to the Sikhs' lentil soup or 'daal'. Rozio's daal became a talk of the town and many visitors were treated to this extraordinary vegetarian dish cooked by an African worker.

Then one day, when on a trip back to his family home in Kampala, the Sikh site foreman had taken a cube from Rozio's kitchen. He showed it to his wife. He told her that when the 'daal' was just about ready to be eaten, all one had to do was to add one cube of the additive to it and bring the whole dish to another boil. The result was a fantastic lentil soup. And so the daal was made and when the foreman's family sat down to eat, one of the sons, who had been educated in England said, " Wow, this is truly a great daal". "Do you like it?," asked the old foreman excitedly, " ...Rozio puts this special thing in the daal to make it taste so good". " Let me see it," said the young Sikh. A cube was quickly taken out of the box and presented with great pride for the son to see. Then the young man said," Do you know what this is? This is Oxo. Do you know that this cube has beef stock in it and that is what has been used for flavouring your vegetables and daals?" Beef was strictly forbidden. No Sikh would openly eat beef or a beef product in those days. Most of the Asian staff at the building site were older Sikhs who had vowed never to eat beef.

The Sikh foreman was absolutely distraught and then became angry. That 'bllady' Rozio had been feeding them beef stock. He must be sacked the very minute they returned to the building site. Then it occurred to him that someone else, another Sikh, had bought the Oxo cubes for Rozio to use in his cooking. Rozio was saved but the Oxo cubes were banned from the Sikhs' kitchen forever.

Running Away from Dad - 2

2006-08-29T00:07:00.000+01:00

We can take ourselves out of the sakati .....

....but we cannot take the sakati out of us! The sakatis are still live in our memories.

I have been unable to write for two weeks but I am sure many of you will want to know how the issue of the accidental kicking of a football into Mrs Chana's dinner was resolved.

It was simple. Dad went quiet for the next two days but every single moment in his presence was tortuous. When was he going to ask me to explain my bad behaviour? How was he going to deal with me?

After the fourth day, his silence began to trouble me. I was concerned - why was he not asking me to explain my bad behaviour? He must know that it was a serious case of misconduct. After another two days, I decided that I may have to remind him of the incident! He must deal with it. His silence was punishing me. After another few days, he called me to his room. I decided that the time had come for me to prepare myself for a beating. I knocked at his open door, something I had never done before. He turned around, looked at me and said," I am going to see a film. Do you want to go with me?" I knew then that he had no intention of discussing that issue! Who would want to miss the chance of seeing a film? It was 'Ben Hur' and dad decided that it was important for me to see it for educational reasons.

I have never forgotten the day we saw that film. Ben Hur had intervened. He had saved me from a pasting.

Running Away from Dad - 1

2006-08-15T02:13:00.000+01:00

How to use visitors as a human shield!

For many former East African Asians, their lives in the 'sakati' system provide endless nostalgia. The sakati was an orderly cluster of flats facing a common rectangular compound not different in layout from today's 'designer' courtyards in Central London's gated properties. They are shared spaces and are bordered by buildings. All sakatis had families living at the perimeter, with the front doors of their flats or houses facing the common area. Each sakati was a community, consisting of households which mostly got on well with each other but there were some which did not get on too well at all. Sakatis bred healthy and open minded people in most cases. There were sakatis which bred vendettas, encouraged the firing of emotional Hisbullah rockets in the form of insults and taunts. Brinkmanship between families was rife. It prevailed across the compound in abundance.

There was very little privacy in the sakati especially where a family chose to have a literally open door policy. Any one could call at any time, bring a dish and take away a dish if they got the smell of what you were cooking. Sakatis were like a community of ants or bees. If you stood at a vantage point, you could see families at work and play almost like a children's activity book which has small windows that open out into various activities. I am thinking of 'advent calendars'.

Anyway, one day a group of boys decided to have a football match inside the sakati. The evening was approaching fast and we had to produce a result. The boys were totally oblivious to the red hot charcoal fires that were cooking the evening meals of many families. They had lost track of the time. The African sunset would soon plunge the sakati into darkness. The lighting was poor. Some years ago there had been a serious incidence when the neighbour's newly married daughter-in-law had bumped into someone's grandfather. Anyway, a high ball came towards me and in the semi-darkness I decided to head it but could not control the direction into which the ball was going to go.

The ball landed in a large saucepan of a neighbour, Mrs Chana, who had just finished cooking a rather oily chicken curry on the coalfire. Her cooking was actually not very good. I remember that she always overspiced her food and added tons of chillies to her curries. Both of their older sons came home seriously drunk after their evening hockey games. They wanted the hottest curry you could find on Ngara Road. The ball hit Mrs Chana's dinner with a rather low, heavy and muffled thud. That was very bad news. From the sound I guessed that the ball had landed right in the middle of the saucepan. I knew that the damage had been done. Mrs Chana started screaming and I decided to run out of the sakati and pretended to have nothing to do with the ball in the chicken curry ....

On reaching the sakati's main door, I realised that we were about to receive visitors; a meanish uncle and his family were approaching the sakati entrance. As I have said before, unnannounced visitors were quite common. It did not matter that they timed their visit to include a meal. They asked me why was I running away at such a speed. Was my father at home? "Stop and talk to us!" shouted my aunt. As I was turning at the corner at top speed I ran into another neighbour who was returning home from work. " Yes, dad is at home. Go right in" I yelled as I ran out. All was quiet for about twenty minutes as I stood under street light and got my breath back. Then I realised that I had to go back.

On reaching the front door, I looked towards Mrs Chana's house and found that their door was shut. Had they picked out the ball from their their meal and were they eating the curry? I decided that it wasn't important at all to find out at that stage... the more urgent issue was how to survive once I got home.

Then I heard dad say with remarkable calm," Dont worry. He is going to come back sooner or later. He sleeps in the bed in the verandah and I will be able to see him". Our visitors were my insurance policy. I decided to enter the house and go straight to the visitors, be very sociable and cheerful and sit very close to them for protection. Dad could lose his temper without any warning. There was every prospect of stopping a missile in the form of a shoe. Dinner followed and soon the visitors left. An eerie silence followed and I knew that dad would spring into action at any time.

" How was school today?" he asked. That was not a good start. Any question about school at that time of the night was a prescription for disaster. Dad was slowly preparing his ground but it put me on the defensive. Any confirmation about lack of progress at school would be badly timed. His anger about the loss of Mrs Chana's cooking was apparent. In addition it had given dad control of the situation. I realised then that I should not have run....I was in deep trouble and dad knew it.

To be continued. Some facts and names have been changed to protect identities. I have also taken some artistic licence and added a bit of fiction.

Time for Some Humour

2006-08-14T10:18:00.000+01:00

Time for a change?

For the next few weeks I will look at the humourous side of our lives in East Africa.

There is no intention of offering racist jikes, an action that I deplore.
There is no plan to pick on any single community each time a comment is published.
Any references made to communities will refrain from using any form of insulting language.
There will be no references to religion, culture and customs of any community.

Phew! All these preconditions probably makes the task easier, not harder, and leaves one to reflect on genuine incidents where the above safeguards can be respected.

Community leaders became gatekeepers and 'askaris'

2006-08-11T12:06:00.000+01:00

How to lead by default

East African Asian communities often chose their leaders by using highly original selection criteria. Any person had a good potential for becoming an Asian leader as long as :

They had visible wealth to sustain their power base. It did not matter if the money came from their businesses- for no one ever looked into company accounts to see if they were in debt to the hilt. The Asian was a good leadership prospect as long as they drove the latest model of a gleaming black Mercedes Benz, even if they did not own it and even if it could be claimed by bailiffs at any time.
They had the historical links with the caste of the majority community. This was paramount as the caste system was imported from India to help maintain inherited power and status. Power was not acquired on merit.
They had the ability to speak reasonably good English. Their command of the English language put them in the front of the race as long as they were successful in nurturing the British. The Asian old guard was largely loyal to the colonial masters and were hungry for recognition by them.
They were married to a rich man's daughter. Financial status was an automatic prequalification for leadership even if the money belonged to the wife's father. You had to be seen in 'posh' circles of society.
They were doctors or dentists. No one had any time for a veterinary surgeon, entomologist or weather forecaster. These professions reflected low esteem and were a waste of time. Doctors had power for obvious reasons; they kept you fit and well.
They were office bearers of service clubs such as the Rotary and Lions. This type of affiliation confirmed their popularity and ability to lead.
They could speak on a public platform reasonably well. " It gives me great pleasures, to welcomes yous to our celebrations" said one leader in a welcome speech to a dignitary. His sense was that the multiple and overwhelming pleasure of welcoming the visitor had to be communicated very openly. Respect for the visitor had to be evident. The use of the word 'you' was harsh and disrespectful. 'Yous' had a connotation of 'thou' or 'more than one'. I learnt many years later that some Indian maharajahs liked to be counted not as one for each maharajah, but as 1.25 or 'sawai' which made one larger than life of the ordinary mortals they were supposed to lead. I am sure someone else will have a better explanation or can help express this with more contextual authority.

The outcome of such leadership selection criteria was that they did not understand community priorities; did not take risks to speak on behalf of the community they led, did not show enterprise and innovation and denied that there were any problems in their communities. One of the key strategies was denial.

They maintained that the social ills that occured in other societies did not 'happen' in the Asian communities. There was no domestic violence, wife beating, child abuse, abuse of servants, sexually transmitted diseases, mental illness and even high blood pressure. These were the conditions and diseases of the highly irresponsible and decadent people in other communities. They were a reflection of social decay which had never taken root in Asian communities. After all, the Asian family was well known for its sound value systems, they took care of their elderly parents and never mistreated the 'servants'.

Such was the unshakeable belief in the Asian community that younger Asians who acquired university education in East Africa and who challenged the old guard were automatically sidelined. Question: Did these leaders migrate to the west, expecting to continue to be the leaders of the Asian communities in the new lands?