A book extract from the recently-released Yesterday in Paradise, by ex-Kenya journalist Cyprian 'Skip' Fernandes. skip...@live.com.au He can be contacted in Goa currently via +91-99-22-611-386
At the end of the Singapore summit conference, there were a number of kerbside press conferences. I happened upon Milton Obote and a group of other African leaders and asked the first question: 'Dr Obote how could you and your fellow African leaders allow yourselves to be bamboozled by a simple procedural motion?' Obote said, 'That is Cyprian Fernandes, a colonial stooge and I will not answer such a stupid question.' Among the group of journalists were some of Fleet Street's best and a chorus went up, 'Answer the question! Answer the question!' Obote and the Ugandans turned and left in disgust. That was the last time I saw him as President of Uganda. While I was walking with this group of journalists, deep in conversation, we stopped at a traffic light. Instinctively we all took a step forward when the pedestrian light turned green. Unfortunately, my foot was the only one still on the road when a car raced past, over my foot. I did not really feel the impact and we walked across the road as if nothing had happened. My foot only began to throb with pain when I arrived in Hong Kong many hours later. I had dinner with Joe Rodrigues' brother and his wife and later went to a casino in Macau returning at around 4 am. The hotel I was staying in had cubby-hole bars at every lift. The silly thing about it was that there also was a mini-bar in every suite. As I approached the lift, there was a fairly large Dutch type with an even larger voice and there were four Chinese grinning and nodding, not understanding a word he was saying. 'Come here you Black bastard. I want to buy you a drink. I am celebrating, another Black gorilla has come to power in Africa,' he said. 'No thanks, I buy my own drinks. By the way, who is the gorilla?' I asked. 'Someone called Idi Amin,' he answered. The Dutchman turned out to be a South African seaman and had heard on the ship's radio that there had been a coup in Uganda. I knocked back a double 18-year-old Glenmorangie and hobbled to the lift and to my room. I rang the airport and said that I held a first class open ticket and needed to catch the first plane to Nairobi. I was told there were three flights. 'Is any flight being diverted to Singapore?' I asked. 'Yes, East African Airways,' was the answer. 'Can I have a first class seat, please?' 'No, you cannot. First Class has been reserved for VIP guests.' 'Can I have the first seat, just behind the curtain separating First from Economy?' I asked. 'Sir, you can have the rest of the aircraft, it is completely empty.' I grabbed my stuff and headed for the airport. At the check-in, the pain in my foot was excruciating and the check-in lady noticed. 'Have you got a medical certificate allowing you to fly?' she asked me. 'Why do I need one?' 'You might have a medical emergency on the aircraft,' she explained. 'Where do I get a medical certificate?' 'The best place would be the new Princess Margaret Hospital.' I hobbled into a cab and when I arrived at the hospital, I flashed my press card and was seen immediately. They began by taking my temperature, measuring my blood pressure, and going through the motions of a full examination. I said, 'Please stop. It is my foot.' 'It will need X-rays,' someone said. 'Just give me some pain killing injections and a large box of painkillers to last me 17 hours of flying,' I pleaded. They obliged, including the certificate that enabled me to fly. I was on that East African Airways flight faster than anything the world had seen. When we stopped off in Singapore, I was at the top of the stairway in First Class as Milton Obote and his entourage came aboard. We nodded in greeting. It was a very somber Obote, his face in grim concentration. Gone was the dismissive arrogance he had displayed the previous day at the press conference. It would be wrong to say he looked a broken man, but the spark of his previous life was missing. Where once there might have been cheery banter as the delegation seated itself, now there was nothing but an eerie silence. I was not surprised by the coup d'état. Before I had left Nairobi, Ugandan contacts had warned me that something was in the wind. I had called Editor-in-Chief Boaz Omori in Nairobi to find out if there was any news. There was none and, according to him, [talk of] a coup was nothing more than political mischief. As it turned out, Obote had made arrangements to sack Idi Amin while Obote was in Singapore. Such was the man's confidence. Idi Amin beat him to the draw. The tears finally came streaming down Obote's face after he listened to a BBC broadcast on the aircraft's radio. The BBC report confirmed the coup. I tried several times to attempt an interview with Obote but with little success. In the First Class aisle he said to me, 'Leave me alone, I am going through a private hell of my own.' So I sat there noting his every move, gesture, facial expression, as he rubbed his face with his hands, talking in quiet tones to his confidantes. As I sat down at my typewriter in Nairobi that night the intro to my story was quite simple: "As Obote sped home not knowing whether he was still President of Uganda or just another man in the street, his only comment to me was, 'Leave me alone, I am going through a private hell of my own.'" Whatever the truth, Idi Amin took charge of Uganda with Israeli help and the blessing of the British. The Israeli motives have been well documented elsewhere: Israel wanted the war in Southern Sudan to simmer on and keep the Arabs in the Sudan preoccupied. Back in Nairobi, while digging into background information, I chanced upon this note (purportedly officially British): AMIN DADA, GENERAL IDI, President of Uganda. Born about 1925. Tribe: Kakwa (West Nile). Joined Kings African Rifles about 1945 as a private soldier and worked his way up through the ranks. One of the first Ugandans to be commissioned Army and Air Force Commander 1967. Major-General 1968. After coup promoted himself to General. Popular and a natural leader of men, but simple and practically illiterate; a man of the people. An imposing presence, 6'3” in height; once a good heavyweight boxer and rugby player. As Head of State, has shown an engaging lack of formality and a disregard for his personal safety. Benevolent but tough Well-disposed to Britain; perhaps to an extent damaging to him in the African context. Speaks passable English. god-fearing and deeply religious. A Muslim with four wives and seven children. Kenya was not exactly jubilant with Idi Amin, but there was some celebration that Tanzania's chief collaborator Obote was out. The extremely left-leaning Julius Nyerere and Milton Obote had no time for British/US capitalist ally Kenya. The British, on the other hand, were 'blinded by Amin's expressed love for England and his intentions to build a pro-Western Government'. He needed help and the British were happy to provide arms and other assistance. Obote and 20,000 Ugandans took refuge in Tanzania, which had been offered by President Julius Nyerere. Around 1964, a rumour claimed that Amin and Obote had been involved in smuggling gold. Some said this went as far back as 1960, with the fall of the Belgian Congo when Belgians sought out Obote's help to transport their valuables to safety. There was an unconfirmed report that Obote had double crossed Amin, keeping the larger share for himself. Who the heck was this guy Idi Amin? Kenyans were glad that he had gotten rid of that arch Black communist Obote. The challenge was to interview Idi Amin. The problem was the borders were shut and to enter illegally was virtual suicide. On Friday, February 12, still hobbling about in pain, I rented a car from the Eboo's where the Nation had a hire-deal, told the driver to lie down in the back seat when we got to the border, and calmly drove into Uganda several hours later, entering illegally and breaking the curfew. I stopped at Entebbe and went to the shores of Lake Victoria and saw the corpses of Amin's victims bobbing about. I then drove to Kampala and visited this huge, mushroom-like tree where Idi Amin claimed God had come to him and told him to save Uganda. I took a photo of a four-year-old pissing on the tree, but I never got it published because it was too insulting to Ugandans. Next, I drove north to the Apac District, the Lengo and Acholi village areas of Milton Obote and his wife, Miria, who was a beautiful and gentle soul. I visited his parents and checked out that all was well in the northern areas. The coup had not reached them. Driving non-stop, with breaks only for meals and nature calls, I headed south until I reached the border with Tanzania. I drove several hundred kilometres along the border until, on the southern side, I saw Tanzanian soldiers digging in. I went across nonchalantly and had a chat with a senior officer who gave me a drink of water and told me they were conducting normal training exercises. I was not able to take any photographs. Along that border, people were fleeing from either side of it, not knowing whether they were Tanzanian or Ugandan. On my way back to Kampala, I saw a Ugandan Military convoy and followed them to their camp where they, too, were digging in. I flashed my press card and told them I was in Uganda to celebrate the army's great victory. I got a couple of beers for my trouble. The bottom line was that Tanzania and Uganda were readying for war. I had to rush back to Kampala and file my story in time for the Sunday Nation. I had just sat at the telex machine and typed 'Mutukula, Saturday. By Cyprian Fernandes.' The door burst open and four armed soldiers rushed in. One of them said, 'You must come with us.' I typed 'They've got me' and hit the send button. The four soldiers frog-marched me into a waiting Jeep. They sat two astride me while I sat on an army tool box in the middle. A fifth soldier sat in front with the driver. Once I got into the Jeep, I knew I was a dead man. How do you face death? Is it like Philippe Petit, the French high-wire artist, who said once he was on that tightrope high above was no turning back from one twin tower to the other? Or did you face it with great courage epitomised by martyrdom? Or without a moment for reflection? I had time to think. I said a prayer as we drove and silently told my wife and daughter how much I loved them both. Their faces kept flashing in front of my eyes. A million thoughts entered my mind, but the most harrowing one was that soon I would be dead. I was too numb to be afraid. Instead I gave in to my coming death fairly easily; after all, I had only myself to blame. That's it, I can't fix yesterday, and I will take the now as it unfolds. I was quite amazed at how much detail in the Kampala streets came to life in that brilliant sunshine. The smiles seemed much larger and the colours much more vibrant. There were more than a few times that I begged God for my life and in the end I commended into His hands my life. The Jeep stopped at the Ugandan Parliament House and I was very surprised when I saw a friendly face apparently waiting greet us. He was an army captain I had known. When he saw me sitting with my hands on my head, he said, 'Mr. Fernandes, what are you doing with your hands on your head? Don't you know you are the guest of his Excellency, President Field Marshall, Idi Amin Dada?' My immediate thought was: why hadn't someone told these four idiots who had arrested me? 'You are very welcome to a Free Uganda and the President is very much looking forward to meeting you,' the captain said. I wondered how he had known I was in the country. I was ushered into the Cabinet Room where Idi Amin and his ministers were seated around a large ebony table. Amin was fairly dark but you could see a reflection of his face in that black ebony table. He got up and came to greet me with his hand thrust forward. 'Welcome to a Free Uganda, Mr. Fernandes,' he said. 'I understand you have been across our border into Tanzania,' he said as we walked towards a large map. 'Yes,' I said, 'I have seen some Tanzanian soldiers digging in.' 'Don't worry about them, my sums will blow them to little pieces,' he boasted. 'What are sums, Mr. President?' I asked. 'Surface to Air Missiles,' he said. 'May I quote you on that?' I asked in a matter of fact way. 'I think that is why you are here,' he answered in the same anner. He invited me to sit. That is when I made a horrible mistake. Having driven for nearly 24 hours, my body was covered in dust, some of it was red ochre, and I was thirsty as hell. So I asked him for a drink. He gestured to his Foreign Minister Wanume Kibedi to oblige me. He returned with a wooden crate of Fanta orange, thick with dust. 'Mr. President, could you oblige me with something stronger, please?' I asked. Again Wanume Kibedi set off and returned with a crate of beer, which was also covered in an inch of dust. As I desperately quaffed the beer, I suddenly remembered Idi was a Muslim and immediately stopped drinking. I sat there for nearly two and half hours and listened to a pack of lies. He told me he was out hunting when soldiers came to him armed with tanks and told him they had made a coup and wanted him to lead Uganda. He denied he had masterminded or led the coup. 'I am a simple soldier,' he told me. There was no mention of Israeli help. But he did give me a quote I have never forgotten: `Uganda is corrupt. The Ministers are corrupt. The civil servants are corrupt. Everybody is corrupt. I want to clean up Uganda and give it back to our people as innocent as a baby that has just come out of its mother's womb.' I liked the guy. He was simple but sincere, and he appeared genuine about cleaning up Uganda. He also said he wanted to get rid of communism, socialism, and all these anti-West ideas. I went back to my Kampala office and called the Sunday Nation editor Peter Darling and said those immortal words every journalist dreams of: 'Hold the front page, I got the interview.' I died a thousand deaths in that Jeep but soon I would be flying back to Nairobi, thank god. I wrote: Amin tells his lies The Military Head of Uganda, Major General Idi Amin Dada, was to have been shot at 3:40 on the morning of Monday, January 25, 1971. Acholi and Lengo in the Ugandan Army and Air Force were given the go-ahead to assassinate Amin and arrest and disarm all non-Acholi, Lengo officers on the afternoon of Saturday, January 23. The former President, Dr Milton Obote, chairing a meeting by telephone from Singapore where he was attending the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting, ordered that Amin be killed. Two of those who participated in the ill-fated plot series of meetings, Basil Bataringaya the former Minister for Internal Affairs and the former Inspector General of Police E.W. Oryema have admitted the plot to kill Amin. The fantastic plot by the former leader to control Uganda by placing armed control in the hands of Acholi and Lengo people was revealed to me by the man who, by an equally fantastic piece of luck, lived to tell the tale... Major General Idi Amin. The 'Obote Plot' was to have been revealed but the new Cabinet decided to withhold the information. However, in a 2.5-hour interview with me, Amin revealed the fateful events that brought him to power. Amin said, "One man saved Uganda from the terrible thing that Obote had planned for us all." His name was Sergeant-Major Mussa of the Mechanical Battalion. If it had not been for him, Amin would not have been alive that day. According to Amin, "That fateful day started most deceptively. It was a bright and sunny morning. Unsuspecting, I went hunting in the Karuma area. While I was hunting and doing my duty for my country, my people and my President, my death and the annihilation of Uganda was being plotted. I learned this later. Ask them and they will tell you it is all true. On January 24 there were several meetings. All of them were attended and chaired by Basil Bataringaya. Also present at the meeting were E.W. Oryema, Mr. Okware, Commissioner of Prisons, Senior Assistant Commissioner Dusman and Mr. Hassan, chief of the CID. There were also others. 'On the afternoon, after the meeting had been held at police headquarters, Parliament Building, this very building where you and I sit today, with thanks to the Almighty God and at the Office of the Inspector General, it was decided. Obote ordered my death. Oryema and Batangariya have confessed to this. 'At that precise moment I was probably shooting my third Uganda Kobi, an antelope. And so it happened. I returned home at six that evening. I did nothing special and did not sense anything at all. At 7.30 the world seemed to erupt on my front door step. There was a tank and the men on it were shouting almost hysterically and like a tall giant Sergeant-Major Mussa stepped off and told me there had been a coup but he had executed a counter coup. 'Make one thing clear. The soldiers and I did not plan a coup. It happened spontaneously. The Acholi and Lengo officers were half way to victory when the ordinary soldier, seeing the danger, took the initiative. One man, Sergeant Major Mussa did it. By six o'clock, the Acholi and Lengo officers had acted efficiently and precisely. All non-Acholi, Lengo officers had been disarmed or arrested. Then it came to the all-important Mechanical Battalion on Lubiri Hill, ironically situated where once the Kabaka's (king of the Bugandan tribe) palace used to be. It was here that Mussa acted with precision, seeing what was happening all around him. 'He made a beeline for the armory and at the same time warned the other soldiers in the battalion. Single-handedly he overpowered the guard and thus armed his fellow soldiers. He took charge of the situation and commanded the counter-coup for those few minutes. Then he made another beeline… for my residence atop a tank and asked me to do my duty and take command of the situation. I acted with hesitation. Then I took charge. Meanwhile, another hero was being born to Uganda. I was left without a single officer, only NCOs and soldiers. Another brave man was in the process of putting his life in danger. He was Second-Lieutenant Maliamungu, Swahili for god's property. Atop a tank, he raced to Entebbe airport, where the Air Force was all set to follow Obote's orders. Maliamungu stopped the planes with his tanks. Later, other tanks assisted him. 'Otherwise, Uganda might have seen genocide. If not for Mussa, Uganda might have suffered annihilation. Maliamungu was shot in the leg, but he refused treatment. He still refuses treatment. He is still in charge of Entebbe and is doing a fine job. There was another man, Sergeant Yekka. He, too, had a very honourable part to play in the salvation of Uganda.' (Amin never told me Yekka's role.) {`}Then I stepped in. I ordered all soldiers to stop fighting. I ordered them to stop killing each other. Immediately there was a response. In some cases rebel officers decided to run away. They did. They are now coming back. 'I was on radio communications throughout the night until the morning. I was ready and willing to die for my country. I had fear of nothing. I felt no remorse. Only one thought nagged my mind: Save Uganda. Save Uganda. I had a small part to play. Ugandans, true national Ugandans, saved themselves and their country. That was what happened. Now, Uganda is in the process of putting the final touches on its second chance to save itself.' Idi Amin's grasp of the English language was not the greatest and I tried to tell the story in his own words. Was his story a total lie? Was there ever a Mussa, Yekka and Maliamungu? Over the next two years, I was never able to find them. It is generally accepted that the Israelis neutralised the Air Force by sabotaging the aircrafts. Idi used to call me regularly on the phone for a chat or tip me off on a story. I made several trips to Uganda until one near-fatal day. During one of my many forays into Kampala, I had heard about Amin's death squads shooting innocent people and throwing the bodies over the railings of a bridge to be devoured by waiting crocodiles. I decided to chase this up and after a lot of help from sympathetic Ugandans I arrived at the bridge and was met by several men. They showed me blood caked at the railings, almost as thick as cow dung. I was told the killings took place around 6 pm There was some natural light left by the setting sun. I was at the bridge, hidden in the bushes, and a little after 6 pm a military truck pulled over and a number of men were lined up then shot in a blaze of automatic gunfire. The corpses were thrown into the river below. I raced to my hotel and as I picked up the keys to my room, the receptionist handed me a folded piece of paper. It said, 'Get out quickly.' I raced to Entebbe airport and headed for Nairobi. I had gotten the photographs but they were a little grainy, yet I thought there was enough to show people being shot, with gunfire flashes most prominent. I took the story, the pictures and negatives to my editor Boaz Omori. He asked me to wait outside his office while he reached for the phone. When he called me back, he said, 'I can't publish this. It is too sensitive and controversial and the photos are not clear enough as evidence.' He tore up the pictures and negatives and threw them into a waste basket. Weeks earlier Idi Amin had visited Nairobi and walked the streets with throngs of Kenyans celebrating his success. He met Jomo Kenyatta and his ministers and was recognised as a friend of Kenya. Boaz Omori could not jeopardise that. The Kenyan government had already warned him. Many weeks later the story flooded the British papers, thankfully. That was the last time I went to Uganda, a country whose president and ministers once welcomed me and where I did not need a passport. That was also the second and last time I had faced possible death in Uganda. Idi Amin has gone down in history as the most murderous despot in African history. He is reputed to have killed more than 300,000 of his countrymen. He also expelled the whole of the Asian community in Uganda, around 50,000 people. With the help of Tanzanian soldiers, Obote deposed Idi Amin who went into exile and eventually died in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, in 2003. Obote was overthrown by his right-hand man and friend Tom Okello in 1985. Obote died in Zambia in 2005. ### Yesterday in Paradise is being released in its Goa edition this week.