Idi Amin Part 4: Expulsion of the Asians
41:15 Share

Ryan Reynolds here for, I guess, my 100th Mint commercial. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I mean, honestly, when I started this, I thought I'd only have to do like four of these. I mean, it's unlimited premium wireless for $15 a month. How are there still people paying two or three times that much? I'm sorry, I shouldn't be victim blaming here. Give it a try at mintmobile.com slash save whenever you're ready. For

$45 upfront payment equivalent to $15 per month. New customers on first three-month plan only. Taxes and fees extra. Speeds lower above 40 gigabytes. See details. It's August, 1972. In a high street in Kampala, under the hot summer sun, an orderly line of people snakes along the pavement. They queue patiently for access to a kiosk within a concrete municipal building. The clerks, there to process their papers, seem in no hurry to tend to their needs.

Kampalans drift past with an air of curiosity, on foot, in cars, on buses, on bicycles. Others point, make jokes. Those in the queue are men, largely, some women, a few children too, clinging to their mother's skirt. And they are ethnically different to the bulk of the Ugandan population. Not Bantu, not Nubian, but Asian, South Asian to be specific.

Their origins lie 3,000 miles away in the Indian subcontinent. They're smartly dressed: shirts, trousers, some in suits, sporting the flares, floral ties, and wide lapels of the day. The women wear bright saris. There are proud, tall Sikhs with beards and turbans. There are businessmen with thick framed glasses and fashionably long sideburns. All descendants of the workers who came to Uganda when the Protectorate was established in 1894.

Though their forebears hail from Asia, that was back in the days of Queen Victoria. These men and women have never really considered themselves anything other than Ugandan. They can speak Luganda, Swahili and other indigenous languages, as well as English and their hereditary Asian tongues. Their businesses and commercial enterprises have sustained the Ugandan economy throughout the 20th century. Most have never even been to India or Pakistan. But now they're being told something to the contrary.

that they are not Ugandan at all. They are foreigners. They are unwelcome, and you can see the worry etched into their faces. They've been told they have 90 days to sell up and leave the country, to go home. This is part four of the Idi Amin story, and this is Real Dictators. If you remember, not long after the Uganda Protectorate was established,

Britain shipped in 32,000 workers from the old British Raj. They came largely from Gujarat and the Punjab, the latter since split between independent India and the new state of Pakistan. They arrived initially to help construct the Ugandan Railway, the country's prime artery to the coast. After completing their contract, some returned. Others chose to stay. Over 70 years, Uganda's South Asian population has increased in size to around 80,000.

still small in a country by now of 9 million, but deeply embedded into an African way of life. Broadcaster Rupal Rajani was a child during the early years of Idi Amin's rule. Her family were part of Uganda's Indian community,

So we lived on a sugar plantation and my parents both worked on the sugar plantation along with my brother and my sisters who went to school there. So it was a purpose-built place, if you like, where employees lived and worked throughout the 24 hours. It was a wonderful life because there was a temple, there was a cinema,

within the compounds of the sugar factory. There was also a hospital, which is where I was born. So all the facilities that anyone might need were actually all on site. It was hard. They worked hard, but they enjoyed life in Uganda and particularly in Kekira. The weather is something that they always, always refer to when talking of Uganda and just how fertile the land actually was.

memories from my sister of, you know, the mango tree that grew in the back garden in Kekira and you would literally walk out and be able to pick a mango off the tree and enjoy it fresh that day. Those are the sorts of memories that my family have relayed to me over the years. Rupal's older brother, Suresh Rajani, was a student by the time Abidia means rule.

When I was born in a small town in Uganda, at that time my father had established his own business. I remember all the shops and the customers were very, very busy all the time they were. And he had very little time for socializing as such because from morning till evening he was busy running the shop. In Uganda, especially in the cities, the industrious Asians have come to form a de facto middle class.

with a lock on many of the professions. They are the managers, the accountants, the lawyers, the doctors, the technicians, the engineers. They have a hold in particular over retail services, with dominance, given the importance of cotton ginning, over the garment trade. Despite the Asian population's prominence in economic life, the fractious nature of Ugandan politics means that security cannot be taken for granted, especially since Idi Amin's ascension to power.

When Idi Amin took over the country, things became more military atmosphere around about the beginning of 1972, March, April time. There were many, many people who were not treated humanly. Things had changed at that time from what it was under Abote or even under the British rule. Professor Mariam Mufti.

When Idi Amin comes to power after ousting Milton Abote, Idi Amin is accepted by the people, not just because he's one of them. He is accepted because he is promoting this ideology of, well, I am going to give you back Uganda.

Right? I mean, that's the rhetoric that he's using. The British had encouraged Asians to migrate from South Asia to Uganda, first to be a buffer between the Europeans and the Africans, to be this one other ethnic group that could be a buffer between the Europeans and the Africans, number one, but second, to build the railroad. Third,

to provide the technical expertise that was lacking within the African population to build the commercial enterprise that the British needed to exploit the resources of Uganda.

So the South Asians are the commercial class, the business minded, successful individuals. And Idi Amin uses this as his launching platform. I am going to get rid of these South Asians who have taken your country from your hands and I'm going to give it back to you.

The land down under has never been easier to reach. United Airlines has more flights between the U.S. and Australia than any other U.S. airline, so you can fly nonstop to destinations like Sydney, Melbourne, and Brisbane. Explore dazzling cities, savor the very best of Aussie cuisine, and get up close and personal with the wildlife. Who doesn't want to hold a koala? Go to united.com slash Australia to book your adventure.

By 1972, Uganda's Asians, who make up just 1% of the population, control 90% of the state's businesses. In both racial and class terms, the structure of Ugandan society, however uncomfortable it is for people to articulate it, has broken down as follows. A white ruling class, a South Asian middle class, and, as Amin repeats, the exploited black man at the bottom of the heap.

According to Amin and his supporters, independence has removed the ruling British administration, although there are still whites in key positions. But Africanization has not advanced at an acceptable pace. The Asians are to be targeted next. On August 4th, 1972, Amin appears at a barracks in Tororo to give a speech. He makes an extraordinary announcement, something he claims came to him in a dream.

All Ugandans of Asian origin are to leave the country. They have just 90 days to do so. They must sell up their homes, their shops, their businesses and go. Amin does not mince his words. He tells the press: "Asians, their main interest has been to exploit the economy of Ugandan Africans. They have been milking the economy of the country." My economy, it has been milked by the non-citizens of Uganda.

I will not allow this in Uganda. He employs a technicality as his justification. Around 50,000 of the Asians retain British passports, a legacy of colonial rule. If they are British, Amin says, then they are Britain's responsibility.

The accusations that Idi Amin made were that we weren't part of the communities, we weren't integrated enough. And that was one of the excuses, if you like, that were used to incite division and hatred towards the Asian community's

We weren't taking part in military life or involved in politics. We were mainly business people who'd arrived from another country and taken over businesses. That was one of the allegations that was made against Asians who lived in Uganda.

that we were taking away businesses, we were taking away from the native communities there and we weren't giving them the opportunities to go into business, to take up those roles and that was one of the things that Idi Amin used against us or a reason to get rid of us. If scapegoating a whole people, identifying them as an enemy within seems abhorrent, it's also a move wildly popular with the African population.

On the streets of the cities, ordinary Ugandans echo Amin's sentiments. Freed now from any politesse, the Asians are bloodsuckers, not really Ugandan, they say. They've been leeching on their fellow African countrymen and women for way too long. Less than 30 years after the demise of Nazi Germany, the language seems eerily familiar. Indeed, the Asians are sometimes referred to as the Jews of Africa. The same old tropes abound.

Stoked by the Uganda Argus, the only daily newspaper, a mouthpiece for Amin. There are rumours of corruption on the part of miserly businessmen, of cooking the books, of squirrelling money out of the country, of their contempt for the indigenous locals.

Creating a common enemy is a typical tactic that is used by dictators. And I would just like to add, not just by dictators, very often by democratic leaders as well. This is just one way you consolidate your rule. It's not a particularly unique tactic to Idi Amin, but it works for him. It was extremely popular with his Black African base. And in fact, it was very popular with his constituents in the north of Uganda, amongst the Nubian Nelotic tribes.

He's playing into a kind of Indophobia that had spread in Uganda because of the economic success that this community had had in Uganda during British times. Conversely, it was not unusual to find that Indians possessed attitudes of superiority and negative pictures of the ability and efficiency of the Africans.

So against that backdrop, creating a kind of racial segregation between the indigenous Africans and this population of individuals who had migrated to Africa and had settled in Africa was relatively easy. Then on top of it, the South Asian community resided predominantly in gated ethnic compounds.

They had access to elite health care and schooling services. The tariff system in Uganda had historically been oriented towards the economic interests of the South Asian traders. All of this was seen as extremely unfair to the Black Africans and to Amin's particular constituency of the population in the north.

So while Milton Abote had a similar agenda, which was an Africanization policy, and he never got around to doing it, Amin's Africanization policy took on a particularly brutal and violent tenor.

The first time I was told of this news was when I finished my night shift in the sugar factory and the supervisor, he broke the news to me. It has been announced on the radio that British Asians have been given 90 days to leave the country. This was the first time I heard of the news. So within 10-15 minutes, you know, I went home and I bought this local newspaper. It was Uganda Argus and that was the first time I read it on the news.

So my very first impression at that time was the other political parties and also the other international organizations like Britain, Europe, America, Canada, they will involve themselves and advise Idi Amin this is the wrong decision. But as time went on and as the words were spread more and more in the country,

Ministers were sent to different locations to pass these messages to the local people and also to the actions as this is a firm decision. Ministers were a little bit diplomatic in announcing and saying what was saying. But at the same time there was an interpreter who translated English into the local languages.

Now the way I would put it is, you know, when it was translated, interpreted, added a little bit of spices, extra words, you know, to make situation even worse. And the tone which they interpreted, spoke really made the local people stand up and raise their hands like this. Yeah, yeah, we agree, we agree. And then I realized, maybe after three or four weeks, no, he means what he's saying, you know. So people better start making plants.

For the Asians themselves, and in much of the outside world, there is genuine shock at Amin's move. It amounts to the ethnic cleansing of not just a racial but an entire economic class. Amin's closest confidants express quiet reservations. Is it really wise, at a stroke, to expel not just shopkeepers, but Uganda's doctors, surgeons, lawyers, bankers? Do you really want to kick all Asians out? Asks a British reporter.

"Yes, they must go to their country," Hameen insists. "But what country is that? Go home where? India? Pakistan? Many have never been there. And the process? The invitation to sell their properties amounts to a full-on confiscation." In the hot sun, Asians queue at government offices, desperate to get information, to secure the necessary papers and permits. They're shunted from one office to another, almost as a game.

No one knows what the hell is going on. On farms and in shops and factories, downcast Ugandan Asians survey their businesses for the last time. Ones that have been built by hard work over generations, forged with a pioneer spirit.

I remember talking to my dad when I was younger about his journey from India to Uganda. And the things that I remember him telling me about that was that he was extremely young when his father died and it was only him and his mum. And he wanted to start a new life, a fresh life. So he decided to make the journey to Uganda by himself at the time.

Those businesses, those properties, will be redistributed, Amin declares. They will now be African. Some Asians, fearing for the livelihoods of their African co-workers, do their best to ensure smooth transitions. Others simply hang their heads in despair. This is grandstanding, they whisper. It does not come with a coherent plan. It's patently obvious that the prized businesses are being earmarked for Amin's cronies, regardless of their economic acumen.

My father, being a manager of the shop, opened the shop, went to the office, and all of a sudden, four or five soldiers entered the office with their guns on and started talking to my father.

We want to know how much wages you are paying to your staff. My father was quite shocked up, you know. My father went and saw the director. This is what has happened. He says, yes, we know, we expect this. Do not worry. Your managership in charge of the shop has already been appointed. Make sure the handover is quite smooth. And once the incoming manager puts his signature on the paper, then you're free.

It's been quietly forgotten that expelling the Asians was actually a policy of Milton Abotes. He was simply deposed before he got round to it. In this sense, Amiens is a continuation program. Similar attitudes pervade other parts of East Africa. In Kenya, leader Jomo Kenyatta

refused to sign any independence agreement unless Britain agreed to a staggered quota of reduction in the number of resident Asians. Similarly, Indians are being flushed out in Tanzania. Dr. Mark Leopold: "The expulsion of the Asians fitted in with wider nationalist attempts to embed African rule in both the politics and the economics of the newly independent countries.

Already in Kenya, most of the Asians had been got rid of. That had been carefully negotiated with the British and in accordance with the way the British wanted to do it and with financial compensation paid. That wasn't the case in Uganda. Partly, they didn't have the money to pay the compensation that the Kenyans could afford.

There was a distinction in theory between British passport holders who could be sent back to the UK and the British accepted that they had a certain amount of responsibility for them and another group of Asians who had neither British passports nor Indian Pakistan passports but only Ugandan ones.

And Amin's policy was to confuse these matters and threaten everybody so that basically the vast majority of the Asians left, whether they were British passport holders or not.

The British didn't want this. They wanted an organized and thoroughly funded transfer of the Asians. They were quite happy to negotiate the expulsion of the Asians. They just wanted it done in an appropriate and profitable manner.

When we went from Kakira to Kampala to get the visas, there were about eight, ten different military checkups on the way to Kampala. There were long, long queues to get an entry into the British embassies. But lucky enough, my father, he managed to get the visas for everybody. Must be a good three, four hours, you know, from the time we arrived at the embassy and come back.

Despite an intervention by the British Home Office, Amin has set events in motion. It's too late. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees is called upon to help facilitate the exodus. Within three months, hastily chartered flights are touching down in London, Toronto and Delhi, discharging the dispossessed, who are armed only with what they are permitted to take with them, £60 in cash and 200kg in baggage per family.

Goods for shipping onward as cargo, packed up on the runway, are simply looted. At least, some would say, the Asians have got out alive. Out in the countryside, the murders continue. In early 1972, some of the worst killings take place in Mutukula, on the Tanzanian border, where hundreds of supporters of the former president, Milton Obote, are massacred. For them, getting out of Uganda by hook or by crook is all that matters.

In the aftermath of the slaughter, up to 20,000 of Obote's supporters flee into Tanzania, bringing tales of the horrors with them. A push on Kampala to restore Obote to power is now becoming a very real possibility. Tanzania's president, Julius Nyerere, has not recognized the means regime. Nor, to Uganda's north, has Jaffar Nimeri, the president of Sudan,

Nyerere calls Amin a traitor to the cause of African freedom and progress. Throughout East Africa there are whispers that an attack is imminent of a two-pronged invasion of Uganda, mounted from Tanzania, to do away with Amin once and for all. Such a move would have international legitimacy, for amid the rise in tensions, Amin has been making claims to a strip of land within Tanzania's borders, a region known as Kagerra,

This is a direct threat to Tanzanian territorial integrity. Sure enough, the rumoured invasion happens. At dawn on September 17th 1972, a self-styled People's Army of Ugandan Exiles rumbles north across the border into Uganda. In advance, they've been busy. They've been organising guerrilla cells within Uganda. There is faith that their invasion will set off a popular uprising. Momentum will build.

Even those who don't see eye to eye with the Bote politically have agreed to set differences aside and get on with the business of removing Amin. One of the People's Army soldiers, a young rebel commander named Yoweri Museveni, will go on to become president of Uganda himself in 1986. In a prelude to the invasion proper, People's Army activists, with Tanzanian government help, have hatched a plan. They are to hijack an East African Airways airliner in Dar es Salaam

From there, they will pick up a contingent of guerrilla commandos at their base near Mount Kilimanjaro and proceed to Uganda, landing at Entebbe Airport. The men will spring out onto the runway as if from a Trojan horse. Entebbe Airport is set on a peninsula jutting into Lake Victoria, 20 miles south of Kampala. It's a key strategic objective.

Securing it will act as a launch pad to taking the capital, easing the way for the troops yomping up from Tanzania on foot. Unfortunately for those involved, the operation is a calamity. The aeroplane is commandeered in Dar es Salaam according to plan, but the rookie pilot charged with flying the mission succeeds only in crash landing it at the airstrip, where the guerrilla commandos are meant to board. Meanwhile, in the ground campaign, the disaster is compounded.

Trucks run out of fuel, map reading skills prove to be poor, rendezvous are missed. The rebel army, it turns out, is woefully small, just 1500 troops. The Tanzanian military support is only limited. Without a clear command structure and poor logistical support, the invasion is soon aborted. Amin, it turns out, had even been tipped off as to its plans. After pushing back the invaders,

The Ugandan Air Force goes on to bomb some installations in Tanzania itself. The Organisation of African Unity condemns Tanzania's involvement in the People's Army misadventure. This gives extra credibility to Idi Amin. He's suddenly the good guy. Amin may have burnt his bridges with the British and the Israelis, but his new pals rush to supply reinforcements. There's a secondment of troops from Libya courtesy of Colonel Gaddafi.

There are mercenaries acting on behalf of the Palestine Liberation Organization, who even whip round to buy Uganda a new MiG fighter jet. In his deal with Gaddafi, in return for Libyan financial aid, Amin promises to convert Uganda to Islam, or at least 70% of the population. He nails his colours firmly to the mast. That same month, September 1972, the world recoils at the Munich Olympic massacre.

with its murder of Israeli athletes by Palestinian gunmen. A telegram arrives on the desk of Kurt Waldheim, the Secretary General of the United Nations. Hitler and all German people knew that Israelis are not people who are working in the interest of the world and that is why they burnt over 6 million Jews alive with gas on the soil of Germany, it says.

The world should remember that the Palestinians, with the assistance of Germany, made the operation possible in the Olympic village. The telegram is signed: "Idi Amin Dada". And so, as the November 9th deadline arrives, the Ugandan Asians leave from Entebbe airport, boarding the flights that will take them into the unknown.

Once we got to Ndebe, obviously there were all the formalities, deck up, visas, X, Y, Z. And you could see the military people with their guns standing around, giving sort of a scary look, you know. Then I had realized I got some cash left with me in the pocket. I said, this is not a good thing, you know. If they find out I got some cash, I could have been troubled.

So swiftly, I passed that cash to a person who was not living. And I don't know, somehow the next thing I knew, this military guy came to me. They want to do a checkup in me, you know, check my clothes and pocket and what. I said, thank God. Yes, I'll come with you.

And he took me in the, like a cabin, you know, like a cloth cabinet and had a thorough check on me. Obviously, I did not have anything which I should not be taking with me, you know. There were some people, especially elderly people, completely in a state of confusedness. So until we were off in the air, you know, that's the only time when people had a bit of a fresh intake of breath. Safety-wise, we are all right, you know. Now, what comes next, you know, wait and see step by step.

As well as in Britain and in Canada, there are doors thrown open in Australia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Malawi and in the Caribbean, as well as West Germany, Scandinavia, the US, even Central America. Those who have spent their whole lives in equatorial Africa are forced to start over in alien environments, alien climates and often facing hostility there too. The Rajanis arrive in the UK.

They're processed at a camp in Devon, before going on to join the expanding Asian community in the East Midlands city of Leicester. I don't actually ever remember having a conversation with my parents or any of my family really about what it was like when I was a lot younger. I don't ever remember having those conversations. I just remember feeling that I didn't fit in.

I was different. I went to school and I had to explain why I didn't eat meat and that I was Indian and I'm not from here. And I didn't like rhubarb and custard because it wasn't my thing. Those are kind of my memories. And I just remember my sisters working really hard.

I remember my brother getting married and my parents being at home and my mum learning to adjust to the kind of clothes she was wearing. We were always trying to get her to wear English clothes when we were young and she would be like horrified at the idea of this.

And she'd be in these African-style caftans. And I'd be thinking, mum, we won't fit in with you wearing that sort of clothing. I would just hear the odd comment from, you know, my sisters who would say, the weather was fantastic. The climate was great. Life was just so different. Life was just so much easier. I wish we were back there. And it was just those things that I grew up listening to. We never actually had that conversation until...

probably until I was about 30, if I'm honest. And even then, it was just simply because of what I did for a living and thought, hang on a minute, we live in Leicester, there's this huge community of us. Why have I never explored this before? Why has this story not been told? And it was at that point that I suddenly thought, this is really important. For most who flee,

There is never any sense that this is just temporary, that they will soon be going back. The idealistic view was it would be great to go back. The reality was different. The reality was we now have to adjust to a new life. We need to rebuild our lives. There's still a fondness, if I'm honest, for Uganda, regardless of Idi Amin. It's the love of the country and the people and the memories that are attached to it.

So I think the majority of people that I've spoken to over time, it's more of a fondness than a bitterness. Professor Derek Peterson. The British looked upon the expulsion of 50,000 Asians as a diplomatic crisis. Many of the expelled Asians claimed Commonwealth citizenship, which obliged the British quite quickly to accommodate tens of thousands of people.

It's not too much to say that this was one of the first human rights crises in world history in which a global community felt obliged to respond to local events in Africa. For Amin, though, the expulsion of the Asians was really a central event and an ongoing aspect of the Amin government's efforts to legitimate its rule.

A whole range of policies and political positions followed on from the Asian expulsion. So after the Asians were expelled, Amin set up trading programs to promote Black business, to fertilize Black businessmen, that is, with capital and expertise that could be used to renovate the economy and bring about the advantaging of Black Ugandans.

who had been, to be honest, held back from positions of importance in the Ugandan economy. So right through the 70s, the Amin government campaigned on the basis of its success in fighting the economic war, as it was called, in lifting up Black Ugandan business. It became the kind of framework, the evidence to show that the Amin government was successfully pushing back against the economic and political

and the cultural legacies of imperialism and asserting Black Ugandans' right to command their own destiny. In Uganda, profitable businesses are handed over to local people with little or no experience of running enterprises. It's not just the businesses themselves. Commercial supply chains break down. There are no parts, no raw materials.

Professor Nakenike Musisi. Much as the rhetoric for Ida Min was nationalism, we have to fight the colonialists and their clonies, the Asians. We have to bring the economy into their hands and so on. It's not nationalism because the people that mostly get the shops and the economy and the jobs are of his ethnic group.

The Kakwas had not been highly educated and so they could not run the economy. So the economy starts going down and then we start having embargoes. The economy is mismanaged. The essential commodities start becoming really rare. Smuggling begins. We start getting some economic sanctions and what we have is really economic deprivation.

Not that Amin himself is inconvenienced. He is busy manipulating exchange rates, allowing his cronies to buy up foreign currency and sell it on the black market. But what was entirely predictable comes to pass. Within a few short months, the Ugandan economy collapses. There is high unemployment, along with shortages of basic foodstuffs. By 1974, even fresh water will be running out. There follows an inevitable crime wave.

We had very, very little in terms of material things, sugar, soap, stuff like that. And we learned to improvise and we learned to live with deprivation.

So Idi Amin hands over all the businesses that were owned, all the enterprises that were owned by the South Asians. He redistributes them amongst his inner circle, so to speak. Trusted advisors as a form of patronage, as a way to earn their loyalty, give them a slice of the

pie, the so-called dictatorial pie. And he realizes that these are people who are completely incompetent, inefficient, don't know anything about running these enterprises, don't know anything about how to keep the economy going. And there you have it, the economy tanks. It slowly, I think, spelled the end of Idi Amin's tenure as ruler of Uganda. In the next episode of Real Dictators, we'll delve into Amin's private life,

taking in his many marriages, mistresses and children. As a documentary about the dictator causes a splash, Amin will hold 200 people hostage until the movie is tweaked to his liking. He's fast becoming a figure of macabre fun, but the higher Amin rises as an international celebrity, the further he has to fall. His cult of personality may paper over the cracks, but the patience of the Ugandan people and the global community will soon snap.

That's next time on Real Dictators.