Idi Amin

Whilst on a pilgrimage to Mecca in 1986 I had the opportunity to meet with Idi Amin again. The meeting was arranged by a close friend of mine, Dr Abdul Majid Qureshi, a fellow Ugandan Asian then a Consultant in a hospital in Jeddah, the city where Amin had taken up residence.

When the time came we were informed that we should travel to his villa. With warnings from our wives not to eat anything that Amin did not also eat himself and to generally be alert of any danger ringing in our ears, we arrived at the appointed time in the evening and were met by an armed security guard who ushered us through an iron gate. Our identities were checked and we were led on into the villa. From there another member of Amin’s household took us on into the drawing room where we waited for the former tyrant. He soon appeared and received us warmly as was his way on such occasions. Shaking hands he appeared to be in a jovial mood, as ever, and was remarkably the same physically as I remembered him from fourteen years earlier.

The drawing room was modestly furnished. He offered us some soft drinks, and at first our conversation was limited to pleasantries. I addressed him as Mr. President as I had done in our past meetings in Uganda and asked him how he and his family were getting on in Saudi Arabia. For a while he was somewhat guarded as he seemed to spar with us, trying to gauge our intentions and detect any possible ulterior motive in our meeting. Once he was satisfied that we were in no way spying nor did we pose any threat, he warmed up and the atmosphere became very relaxed. We spoke a lot about the situation and history of Uganda, but he was equally interested in the political landscape of Britain and listened carefully to my comments and observations. The time went by quickly and we had in fact stayed much longer than we had planned. As we began to take our leave around 10 o’clock, Amin, enjoying himself thoroughly by now, holding court and discussing affairs close to his heart, insisted we stay for dinner. We could not of course decline and were in any case obviously keen to spend more time in the company of this singular man. Other members of his group living in Jeddah, including one General Bashir, his Prime Minister in waiting, were summoned by telephone and they soon joined us, swelling our numbers even further as by now we had already been joined by some of his family.

We were served a lavish meal prepared by Amin’s wife over the next two hours and we continued an interesting and insightful conversation. I found that not only was Amin well informed about the situation in Uganda but that he also had a thorough grasp of the international political scene and was particularly unhappy with America’s treatment of his friend Colonel Gaddafi.

He told me of his hopes of returning to power in Uganda and secret visits to Sudan and Zaire to assess his support, and he assured me repeatedly that if he ever got another opportunity he would do great things for Uganda and its people. (He did in fact attempt his return to Uganda in 1989 through Kinshasa to lead an armed group, but was unsuccessful.)

On the issue of his expulsion of the Asians from Uganda he urged me repeatedly to advise former Ugandan Asians to return to Uganda and restart their businesses. This was his way of acknowledging the grave economic blow he had dealt the country in expelling the Asian community, the backbone of the country's prosperity, so hastily and unceremoniously.

Eventually, sometime after midnight, we began to leave. On our way out Amin showed us a blackboard in an adjoining room on which were scribbled some German words. He told us that he was learning the German language from a German teacher, remaining still a great admirer of Hitler and certain elements of German culture. He walked with us outside the villa and showed us on the way the Ugandan matoke (plantain) tree and the mohogo (cassava) plants that he had grown in his garden that he had brought with him when he fled the country in 1979. As we reached our car, parked just outside his gate, he embraced us warmly before bidding goodbye. We shook hands and parted. The difference this time was that he was no longer dangerous behind all his charm because he no longer had any power, and I was no longer perceived as an enemy and no longer on his hit list, though I knew the truth of so much that had happened during his rule and rise to power.

Shortly thereafter, though much later than we had planned, we returned to our thoroughly worried wives.