Suffering Without Bitterness

This is the title of a famous book that was written by Jomo Kenyatta during Kenya’s struggle for independence. Mzee Jomo Kenyatta also became the first President of post-colonial Kenya.

My essay using the same title is published today. Please see the section marked ‘Pages’- in the right-hand side column of this page.

I am writing about lessons that were learned in Uganda and, indeed Central Africa, when thousands of Asians had to leave when Idi Amin expelled the community from Uganda.

I welcome your comments but if you dont wish to write a comment please contact me privately.

 

Yasmin’s One Woman Show

Yasmin Alibhai-Brown, the prominent journalist and regularly in demand for media interviews in the UK,  is a former resident from Uganda and a co-student from Makerere University, Kampala.  Yasmin has been touring her one woman production but unfortunately I have missed it so far.

However, Yasmin will be looking for more touring options. Further information is available on Yasmin’s website at http://www.alibhai-brown.com/.

Another producer, Chand Sherma has also been touring her one-woman show for sometime. It covers Chand’s experiences in her life and her assessment of the issues which inform her work.

 It would be good to hear from other ‘one-person’ show producers to see how their East African experiences have influenced their artistic work and their campaigns relating to whatever issues that concern them.

 

Asian Enterprise and CSR

At one time the mere mention of Asian businesses used to create serious critical debate and consternation.  Were they doing the ‘right’ things? Were they investing for sustainability? Did the Asians promote good employment practices? Were they investing in the right sector? Trading enterprises based on import and export, but moslty importing were considered to less beneficial than manufacturing. Behind all this, one of the major concerns, often not articulated clearly was: were the Asian traders not taking unacceptably high profits in a low margin sector of the economy?

It appears that in Uganda these issues are not taking centre the stage at present. It also seems that many Asians have moved higher in the enterprise value chain; they seem to be investing in areas which require major investment, syndicated finance with international partners and banks and they are going into areas which reflect high cost of entry into ‘difficult’ business sectors. They are taking major risks.

However, during the early seventies the centre for Asian retailing used to be Nairobi. How has this changed? This web-log invites contributions that would help to address the following areas of interest:

• What types of concerns still prevail about Asian enterprise?      
• Have the Asians moved into higher value-added industries that may be considered to be more suitable for secure economic development? These terms need to be explained. 
• Has Asian dominance of retailing been reduced by emerging African traders?
• How are Asian businesses involved in corporate social responsibility, or CSR?
• Are these questions important and valid?

The most successful example of social responsibility that can be recalled is investment in the townships of Lugazi and Kakira, where Asian business ‘dynasties’, that is, the Mehta and Madhvani families provided schools, hospitals, sports fields, safe shopping centres and also good health and welfare facilities. But these sugar factories were remote islands of employment and like mining towns anywhere in the world, the Asian entrepreneurs had to provide the living accommodation and facilities for a civic society.

 

How well is CSR being practiced today by Asian businesses? It would be good to hear from them.

 

Cultural Issues

One of the issues worth investigating is how the creative arts and culture have been developing in the rural areas, the smaller towns and in Kampala, Nairobi and Dar-es-Salaam. When in Kampala recently, there was’nt enough time to go into the crafts shops opposite the High Court to see the crafts on offer and to discover the makers.  The location of the crafts centre near the main hotels appears to be a splendid decision; tourists do go there with their wallets stuffed with dollars and pound sterling. I will be asking the appropriate Government department to send some information. However, are prices likely to curtail the interest of local buyers? There are a couple of crafts shops in the Sheraton Hotel. A number of exciting ‘pieces’ were on sale but prices were sky-high.One is reminded of the phenomenal amount of travel advertising in the UK media.  Promotions feature the rich heritage of India and Pakistan, the exciting developments in Dubai, the forthcoming attractions in China and the powerful imagery of Buddhist culture in Thailand, for example. Then the advertisers’ cameras inevitably move to Africa, but only to cover the wildlife in safari parks- not in itself a disputable matter but why are tourist companies not promoting African culture? Is there a package of cultural work that tour companies can promote?

Another area of interest is the development of performing and visual arts. The National Theatre seemed to be busy but there was no information in the newspapers about the type of activities that the theatre is developing. The theatre would be a good place to start finding out.

 

The Story of the Limes

The first travel note seems to have gone all around extended “Rafikiland” in such a whiz. I am reminded of the DHL adverts on the telly in which parcels travel at nearly the speed of light. A private note to some friends is now competing with Harry Potter for international attention.

 Kampala is now the place to be for rat runs, that is how taxi drivers have created new routes to get from one place to another by avoiding known areas of congestion. So, if you want to go to Kololo from Norman Cinema (now a church), you no longer take the straight and narrow way to Bombo Road past those sleepy upside down bats. Besides the bats are too busy to worry too much about your slow progress. So, to go to Kololo, you go downhill to old the Chor Bazaar (where you could buy your car light which had been stolen on the previous day), past the old rainwater sewer at the bottom of the valley. The sewer itself has benefited from extensive upgrading by Chinese contractors- the walls are now steeper to allow even more rainwater to gush past the old Ramgharia School on its way to Nakivubo.  Back to my journey to Kololo, we went up towards the Sikh Temple in Old Kampala (Rashid Khamis Road) and past the Temple, did a right turn and then a beeline to end of the road to reach one end of the Makerere Hill Road. Then we went down to Aga Khan School and the new university and started the climb to reach the Makerere University’s main gate only to slide effortlessly into Wandegeya before going past Mulago junction to Kololo. That took 35 minutes and we were only on the outskirts of Mulago. The trip to Kololo was abandoned. 

I have said previously that central Kampala has no buses. It is the day of the matatu - white Japanese minibuses with chequered flag-like lines on their sides. I realised very quickly that the chequered lines have a purpose - to facilitate race-driving ambitions of the matatu drivers. They come tearing through the traffic and screech to what should be a sudden halt at the junction; except that they have merely slowed down and have no intention of stopping. If your taxi is in their way, you have to stop. Since the road is already congested, the matatu driver sticks the sharp angular side of his minibus between your taxi and the car in front. Full marks for guessing who joins the gap in the road when the traffic moves. In the meantime, the young matatu driver (all of them are very young) is constantly revving his engine to remind you of his intentions…Louis Hamilton is tame compared to the matatu driver.

We went to Nakasero market to buy some limes to make a cooling drink. It took half an hour from the old Bombay Stores corner to go downhill to the market. At the junction of the Allidina Visram Street, it was the matatus that had created the right of way, going from left to right and vice versa. When you finally reach the market, there is of course no parking space available but cars are parked three to the kerbside anyway. The best way to shop is to let your driver go in circles, looking for a parking space that he will probably never find, while you enter the market with some trepidation - a ’school’ of totos (shortened version of  ‘mutoto’ or children)  have started walking with you. You wonder whether they know where you are going! You even wonder whether you know where you are going. They will try to meet your every need. Inside the market I was offered padlocks, flimsy toy aircraft that would split into two after one crash landing, agarbatti, spoons, combs, scarves, hairnets, ladies underwear, a ruler and a screwdriver. If there was any connection between the last three items, I am afraid I did not match the vendors’ imagination - I was only looking for limes.  All the ‘alleged’ limes actually looked like small lemons. When you asked for limes, you were offered more lemons. Then a cheeky little boy said, “This is lime” with great conviction. I was reminded of Einstein and the apple. He was holding a large yellow lemon with a skin as thick as a crocodiles tail.  Finally we did see some overgrown limes and made arrangements to buy six of them. The best price, according to the top toto was Shs 3000/- “Only for you sah, reeeally, sah!” I looked at him with suspicious interest but in an inquisitive, penetrating way. I saw rich talent, was there the beginning of a rogue trader who would be trading in hedge funds and currencies and probably making horrendous losses in 20 years time? On the other hand he could be a future president of Google or even the country when he grows up…. He burst out laughing, responding to my serious scrutiny. The rest of the school of totos also enjoyed a jolly good laugh. ” Do you think I am a muzungu?” I asked. Twenty totos replied in unison,” Muzungu!, muzungu!”. The price of limes suddenly crashed, faster than sub-prime mortgages. The limes were on offer for Shs 800/-. Six hundred is what I offered and they accepted. I took out a Shs 5000/- note but they did not have any change. One of the totos offered an ingenious solution - why don’t I go into the main market to buy other things and then come back to them with exact change? Very slick. This was too much. In the meantime I thought about my taxi driver who must have been on his 1645th round of the market still looking for a parking space. I dug deep into my pockets and found £3.15. I offered that to the chief toto for six limes. He promptly declined. I knew that he was thinking of Ugandan Shs 500/- coins, which are now the main unit and looks amazingly like a £1 coin. I begged to explain that each £1 that I was offering them was equal to Shs 3000/- at the bank. My hopes began to rise when the totos suddenly became very receptive to the proposal - they were in for a quick mega profit while I was getting tired. Then they had a quick consultation amongst themselves and the chief toto announced with great dignity,” We want dollaas”. I pleaded that £1 equals to 2 US dollars. They were not interested. I was starting to give up the idea of buying limes when the taxi driver bust on to the scene - he had found parking after 43 minutes. The driver asked them something with a terse question in Luganda. They accepted £2 for six limes. The taxi driver protested, reminding me that I was being robbed. I told him to leave me with the “deal”. Those were the most expensive limes that have ever been traded in East African history- six limes for Shs 6000/-. My new “rogue trader” was happy, I was happy but the taxi driver was sulking. After reaching my hotel, the Sheraton, the limes were cast aside. It was time for a cool 5.6% Nile Beer. I put the dusty limes in the fridge and was seriously reprimanded. It was also not a smart idea to reach out for another beer when we had spent the afternoon looking for the limes.

I hoped that my newly discovered entrepreneur, who was not more than 12 years old, was safe at home. I wondered whether he had realised the profit he was sitting on.

 

A Rafiki Returns to Kampala

There will be several short ‘Travel Notes’ from me but here is the first. I went to Uganda after 36 years but not in the type of situation that I had wanted- I had gone for a funeral. However, I managed to see a bit of town and country in between prayers and receiving people at the funeral.The population has trebled; now at 30 million and suggesting the struggle for survival is intense, with failing services, intense traffic congestion on the roads… but five new 5 Star hotels for the tourists and the business and conference circuit, but located in a busy urban scrawl that seems to have been missed the attention, possibly, by the city council. There are several new buildings in Kampala, some noticeably bigger and smarter than a vast number of smaller ones that have sprung up in the city and its surroundings. Does this reflect progress and prosperity? All that investment must suggest that there is a growing market. The Ugandan taxi driver, a Baganda who took us around was quite proud of the achievements. He was driving a neat and clean taxi, over 20-year-old Japanese Toyota, which was working very well.

I spoke to around 10-15 Ugandans during my stay. Only two, both Makerere academics were around my age but a little younger. The majority of Ugandans are very young. A ‘muzungu’ friend said that over 95% of Ugandans were under the age of 15. Imagine the demand for goods and services in a country where the population is skewed towards the very young. The young were everywhere, offering to clean your shoes, carrying your shopping, clean your car windscreen or selling anything that catches your fancy - I was offered the type of goods that are all very normal in developing countries.  The area of central Kampala was a treat and very nostalgic. But you only had drive out of any of the exits, and you saw uncontrolled growth - a few shanties, overcrowding, cars and trucks parked precariously, hundreds of minibuses ( Japanese, of course) doing a brisk trade - all full of passengers at all times. Owing to acute congestion, normal buses seem to have been taken out. There was only set of traffic lights (donated the Japanese, I was told) that was visible and working. All other traffic lights seemed to have been removed! There were no police with crisp and brilliant white armbands to guide the traffic…. it was mayhem. However, the minibuses with crazy and aggressive young drivers whiz their passengers around with alarming efficiency… you stay out of their way or otherwise suffer scratches on your vehicle. There was no traffic police or enforcement for bad parking. If you parked badly, only you suffer - the bumps and scratches on your vehicle was the penalty or the fine…The predominance of things Japanese was highly visible. But many cars, motorcycles and scooters, were in good condition suggesting recent importation. They must have the money to pay for them. The taxi driver said that loan capital was abundant and terms of payment, while strict, were affordable. However, there were serious penalties for default. Taxi drivers have been known to lose their homes, which were pledged as collateral. Second-hand prices were very high — a ten-year-old high mileage large car could fetch £4,000 to £5,000 i.e. five times the UK price.Makerere University has at least 7 new faculties and many new departmental buildings, but roads are again, in atrocious condition, with raw human waste from one sewer, flowing down and covering one of the roads. Maybe it was just a bad day but the sewer did time itself very well to greet me on my visit. My old student hall of residence does not appear to be maintained, at least externally and the old Northcote and New Halls were identified by yellowish-grey-streaky colour- having not been painted for ages. Northcote is now Nsibirwa and New Hall looks like an old warehouse.  So is Makerere going downhill? Far from it, but there are new “universities” including private ones which have offered immense competition. Makerere is reported by lay observers as expensive but no one referred to it as low on standards. Only, the private universities seem to have multiplied suggesting there could be a problem with qualifying criteria to register new universities. The old Asian rafikis could start one at any time. I have been thinking of a plan to help them raise money.

The Ramgharia Sikh Primary School has been vandalised after being out of use for over a year- the lease expired and the surroundings have deteriorated so much that a school is no more viable on that site. The Khoja Shia Ithnasheri School has been demolished to make way for commercial development. Norman Cinema is now a church and Odeon has been converted into an ice cream factory. The Aga Khan School is running, as is the new Aga Khan University, a testimony to the Aga Khan’s continuing commitment to the country. Arya Girls has survived, Norman Godinho Primary is dusty yellow but running. It was sad to see my primary school, the Sikh school, in such a sorry state. We used to have a stunning green field opposite the school for sports - it now hosts hundreds of shabby and densely packed market stalls…all very busy. Old Kampala Sec School is still running and in very good order. I did not see Kololo, it was too much out of the way and time was short.

The traffic congestion in Kampala has led to every road out of the city being used to bypass the congested centre, leading to gridlock at most key points. There are no reliable traffic lights except for a major junction on Kampala-Jinja Road, a traffic-monitoring complex that has been donated by the Japanese as I have stated earlier. In the UK we refer to the illicit use of side roads to bypass central traffic as “rat runs”. Kampala could offer many lessons to rat runners in the UK and USA/Canada. This means that all side roads are densely clogged, with a 10-hour gridlock almost every day. On one day, a journey from Norman Cinema to the Sikh Temple, along the steeply sloping road, down the valley and uphill to the temple took 40 minutes.

Life goes on. Almost perfectly, it appears. People are said to be happy and enterprising. Many hundred small traders and street vendors prefer trading to manual jobs. 

The current worry is about a vast refugee influx from neighbouring Kenya; it seems to have started. That worried me a lot. Add to this the concerns over breaks in the running of the trains to Mombassa – how is a landlocked country like Uganda going to cope with the disruption of its key transport arteries?I did not see a single beggar, no one had rags on their bodies… and no one (compared to New Delhi) harassed you persistently for a ‘gift’ which stands for the sale of a useless item. There was a sense of dignity even amongst the street vendors. They made a discrete approach, offered you’re their wares and left you alone if one was not interested.The best thing I witnessed was a remarkable degree of Press freedom. One of English dailies was criticising President Museveni’s credentials for acting as a peacemaker in neighbouring Kenya - how could he have credibility, the paper seemed to be saying, when he has failed to manage tribalism at home? Museveni had warned Ugandans to stay away from Kenya on one day. Two days later Ugandan trucks and buses were burnt in Kenya. Two drivers were burnt or hacked to death. When I had read the president’s warning, I was rather alarmed but obviously he knew much more about the risks than I did!

It is not up to me to comment on how they run their country. Population growth has caused huge demand on resources. The youthfulness of the population meant that out of 10or 15 or so Ugandans that I spoke to, none had been around at the time of the Asian expulsion. Critics point to high level of spending on defence and growing corruption. I wanted to take a picture of my old hall of residence but a security guard ‘officially’ demanded Shs 500/- (about 18 UK pence) as the ‘fees’ for taking pictures. Just look! How much money are they losing by setting such a low chargeable rate for taking pictures! I am joking- the money went straight into his pocket. Don’t even think about proof of payment.

When I told the people that I was returning after 35 years and was a former ‘expellee’ they thanked me for going back and all said,” Welcome Back”. Maybe I was too quick to draw conclusions but no one made me feel unwelcome or showed a racist streak. Uganda has changed – there is vibrancy, expectation and most importantly motivation.

More later.

 

Welcome

Welcome to the New Wahindi - roads and tunnels depicting Asian journeys and vision