Mea Culpa
Idi Amin Dada who ruled Uganda for a number of years has been accused of committing massacres on around half a million people, including one of his wives, who, it is believed, he dismembered, roasted on an open fire and ate with members of his Kakwa tribe. And all these ghastly and tragic events can be laid at my door.
He was born in Koboko, to a medicine woman, (married to a bugler in the British army) and, it is rumoured, the kabaka of Buganda, who she had cured of some condition for which modern medicine could do nothing. She cured her patients by administering to them the water of Allah. The kabaka (or king) was nominally a Christian, having been forced to convert by the British occupiers, but within the walls of his palace he was a devout Muslim. He made sure the boy, born on an Eid day_ which is why Idi was added to his name, be brought up as a good Muslim.
Idi Amin would much please his father when he visited his mother, by reciting huge chunks of the Koran in his mellifluous voice. He learnt Arabic but was not otherwise too interested in other school subjects. He would always struggle with English. He grew up into a strong healthy lad, and by the age of eighteen he would be of six feet and four inches in height -1m93. Since he had a gargantuan appetite he was passionate about cooking, and when the K.A.R. (King’s African Rifles) were recruiting, he enrolled as a trainee cook. He prayed five times a day, did not touch alcohol, and was determined to lead a chaste life until he found four good women to marry.
After the great war, the K.A.R. were stationed in the colony of Mauritius, in the barracks of the British Army in Vacoas. When he was allowed to, he came to my city of Port-Louis, and I met him the Jummah Masjid.
We did not often see Africans on our island, and there were so many rumours flying, including that they stole little children and ate them. I did not believe these far-fetched stories, because he was clearly a Muslim, and it was obvious that as such he was a good saintly man. I had no hesitation in approaching him, and addressed him in my inadequate English. Although we did not always understand each other, we laughed a lot, and had some good times together.
We sometimes would go to the Champ de Mars together, the horse-racing grounds near my home, and we would walk once round the track. We must have been a funny sight, him with his gigantic proportions, and I barely four feet tall, not yet a teenager. We had learnt a few Swahili phrases, and would greet the black soldiers with Apana mazuri and Jambo. Then we youngsters in my neighbourhood started the tradition of teaching them swear words.
Inevitably the day came when Idi asked me to teach him Créole.
What’s good-morning?
Li ki tor ma.
What’s I’m so glad to see you?
Mo fine vine bourre to soeur.
Idi repeated the phrases until he became word perfect.
Next thing, he turned up at the Jummah Masjid one Asr prayer, when there are very few worshippers, and the Imam who had seen him before, had the leisure to come greet him.
Li ki tor ma*, Idi said to the saintly man, beaming a wide smile at him. The Imam frowned, but the K.A.R. man had not finished.
Mo fine vine bourre to soeur**, he continued. Although the Imam was a whole head shorter than the soldier, he angrily slapped him.
How dare you come into the house of Allah and proffer such profanities, you black cannibal? And three stalwart fellows grabbed the poor man and dragged him out kicking him and swearing at him. Idi could have made mincemeat of all three of them, but he began crying like a child, failing to understand the reason for the strange behaviour of people he had come to with love in his heart. Passers-by seeing him like this thought it was very funny, and they could not hide their hilarity.
From the day, Idi was a changed man. No longer did he burst out laughing at the drop of a hat. He had lost his joie de vivre, and would never regain it fully. He whose heart knew no hatred until that day, began loathing everything Indian because I was an Indian and he held me responsible for the biggest humiliation that he had undergone all his life. This anger never left him.
- Your mother’s cunt
- I wanna f..k your sister
