Exiled: The Ugandan Asian Story

This year marks the 40th anniversary of the arrival

of nearly 30,000 Ugandan Asians on these shores,

expelled from their homes and livelihoods

by the dictator Idi Amin.

The responsibility of Asians in Uganda,

it is the responsibility of Great Britain.

Cars were abandoned, people's houses were abandoned.

You scare, you frighten.

Almost overnight, an entire community became outcasts.

Whole families arrived here

with little more than the clothes on their backs.

There were millionaires in that part of the world

and suddenly they became beggars.

There were Sikhs, Muslims, Christians and other faith groups,

but the vast majority were Hindus.

The Ugandan Asians in the UK today seem some of the most successful,

some of the most settled communities.

They're absolutely integral to British life today,

and yet it's easy to forget that they've been through these trials.

How did the Ugandan Asians manage this remarkable turnaround

and what lessons can we learn from their success

in the face of overwhelming adversity?

It gives me nightmares even today. Even today, I wake up

in the middle of night and say, "What? What am I doing here?"

Chandrika Joshi is preparing to celebrate

the Hindu festival of Dussehra.

There's significance to light all throughout Hinduism.

It's always the same philosophy which is from darkness to light.

For Dussehra, as well, light is important from that perspective.

Dussehra is derived from the Sanskrit Dasha-hara

meaning "remover of bad fate."

This year, the festival coincides with the 40th anniversary

of the expulsion of the Ugandan Asians.

The tales that you see told in Dussehra

about trials, about exile, about perseverance,

all of these things are things

that actually the Ugandan Asian community themself has experienced

so I think when those tales are told at Dussehra,

that's really their own story that's being told.

People would like lots of candles any time they're gathering as a group.

Because all the dancing takes place in the evening,

the candles are lit because it's dark.

Chandrika works with special needs children

but she's also a priest, following in the footsteps of her father

who was a priest in Uganda, where she grew up.

Uganda was known as the Pearl of Africa,

a beautiful, fertile land where the sun always shines

and life was very comfortable for most of the Asian population.

Until...

Last Friday, I announced the decision of my government...

On 4th August, 1972, the President of Uganda, Idi Amin,

ordered the expulsion of his country's Asian minority,

giving them just 90 days to leave the country.

They have been milking the economy of the country.

Amin's policy of Africanisation played on the growing resentment

amongst black Ugandans that the Asians,

although only 1% of the population,

controlled 90% of the wealth of the country.

He declared that since Uganda was formerly under British rule,

the Asians were the responsibility of the British government.

In the days and weeks that followed,

the British passport office in Kampala was besieged

by anxious families from all over Uganda.

-Do you feel threatened?

-I do.

Just in 90 days, you cannot do anything.

Mother's passport, father's passport,

and your British nationality document.

And as the deadline loomed,

a climate of fear and intimidation descended on the Asian community.

Gordon Vaja and his wife Jaya feared for their young family.

Gordon ran a small garage and repair shop.

I was working in my garage, it was round about 10 o'clock.

Two army people came in, he says, "This is your garage?"

I said, "Yes, it's my garage."

He says, "Go home. Do you love your family? Just get out."

That makes me really, really frightened.

They could do anything, you know.

The packing was done at night. Most people didn't sleep

and left all the food still in the containers in the house

and locked the door behind and just walked out.

You can't imagine, you know, there was no bird flying, you can see.

Cars were abandoned, people's houses were abandoned.

You're frightened, you're frightened,

you're scared to live in your own house, I'm telling you that.

Photo-journalist Maz Mashru also found himself a marked man.

My name had sort of cropped up about three or four times.

They brought the guns and put a gun on to my chest.

On the final time, my informant came to me and said to me

that if I did not flee the country, they were coming after my life.

I grabbed my equipment and I travelled on my press card

all the way to the city.

I was coming from Soroti to Kampala.

There were 19 road blocks which had been manned by the army people

that would stop every car,

they will search into every car

and then they would decide what things belong to them

and what things I can take.

The people say take everything if you like, but don't hurt us,

especially children.

If they see a young girl, a 14, 15-year-old,

and they say, "Oi, leave her here for us, don't take her."

They are swearing and they are talking like that, I remember.

So many people was crying, as well.

Desolate and destitute,

some 30,000 exiles left Entebbe Airport for these shores.

But this wasn't the end of their story.

Awaiting them was a country, and a government,

that was neither ready nor willing to welcome them.

Just four years earlier, Conservative MP Enoch Powell

had made his infamous Rivers of Blood speech

in which he railed against the rising peril

of immigrants coming to Britain.

As the Ugandan crisis surfaced in 1972,

immigration and Enoch Powell headed straight back

to the top of the political agenda.

The Ted Heath Government knew from the start that the Powellite attack

would be reignited. However, there was clearly an obligation

on the British to allow Asians from Uganda to settle in Britain,

because otherwise they'd be rendered stateless

so it was a kind of a perfect storm for the Conservative Government.

If masses of human beings are being driven into exile,

in any of the four continents,

then let the other countries of the world

take action to afford refuge to the exiles.

With Powell once again grabbing the headlines,

the Government shunned him in public

whilst in private, Prime Minister Edward Heath made calls

to other world leaders asking them to accept the immigrants.

Although many of them may be United Kingdom passport holders,

lots of them may prefer, even if they have to leave Uganda,

not to come here.

The Government's first instinct was to minimise the problem.

It wanted to be able to present to the public

a picture of a burden that was being shared,

and this is the problem, I think, looking back on this issue,

that it was always presented as a burden or a problem

rather than an opportunity.

But the Government had run out of time.

The first trickle of refugees began to arrive at Stansted Airport.

Maz Mashru captured the new arrivals emerging bewildered but relieved

into the cold, grey, British weather.

When we came to Stansted airport,

I convinced one of the attendants that if I could go down

and take a couple of records... By that time,

I had already loaded my camera with a film

and I could capture about seven or eight photographs.

As more and more plane loads of refugees

began to touch down at Stansted and Heathrow,

the Government scrambled into action.

The Uganda Resettlement Board

has taken over an office block at the airport to receive the Asians.

The Resettlement Board was set up to provide emergency housing,

healthcare, food and drink, before planning for 30,000 futures.

Asians will live and sleep in rapidly converted barrack blocks.

There were no houses available. For the past fortnight,

work on cleaning, tidying and adapting the huts

has been in full swing.

Doing it with the volunteers as we have done

has brought out the very best in British character.

The kitchens, too, have been made ready to cope with the Asian diet.

When we landed, I do remember my father crying.

Never seen my father cry before. He had tears in his eyes.

Then my mother started crying and then people who knew my father said,

"Our priest is crying" and then they started crying.

And it was tears of relief that, you know, we are going to be safe, we made it.

The newly-arrived immigrants,

who had lost everything, started to believe that they could start again.

For many, their faith was the key.

I think that sense that you can't really overcome darkness

until your faith, your beliefs, come into the picture

is absolutely core to many of these communities who went through

this experience and still have a strong faith themselves today.

Faith. Faith is a big part of it.

From believing that what's happening to you is right for you.

That sometimes you don't have to fight things,

you have to go along with the flow,

even if it doesn't look appealing to you,

because maybe there is something better waiting for you

at the other end.

Chandrika's family were sent to a former RAF camp in North Wales

called Tonfanau which became home to 3,000 refugees.

It was here that they celebrated Dussehra.

Yeah, we had our Dussehra celebration there.

With resettlement camps and in Uganda, actually,

the different religions and cultures mixed really well.

We had our first Dussehra in the camp.

Everyone sort of got together and said,

"We have to do something here."

It was a little hall.

No-one had musical instruments or anything like that

but we all got together.

The different stories told at Dussehra are very moral tales,

and yet they teach virtues that in some ways are ones

that are too often forgotten

and absolutely essential to succeeding in life.

Virtues like humility, virtues like endurance,

virtues like loyalty and fair play and that you have a hidden strength.

All of these things are exactly what the Ugandan Asian community

had to draw upon to survive in the new world,

to overcome the trials that they experienced

and to renew themselves in a new country.

The Vaja family were also sent to Tonfanau.

Gordon and Jaya are returning to the camp for the first time

since they left nearly 40 years ago.

All the memories coming back.

The weather was completely different in Africa.

We hadn't seen the cold like this.

I remember the 7th of October from Entebbe

and the 9th of October we came in the camp.

The Dussehra virtues of endurance and humility

still permeate the memories of their time here.

What the people there have done for us...

Well, we will see whether we can arrange this for you.

..because if you have not eaten for two to three days,

and someone gives you food, how do you feel that?

Where can you get this sort of treatment, this sort of hospitality?

Gordon and Jaya remember a sprawling village

of buildings bristling with activity, but now only a few remain.

All gone.

What can you expect after four decades?

This road used to take us to the quarters where we used to live.

Just somewhere there. I don't remember exactly.

Mr Gordon Vaja and his family have been sitting it out

in their hut for ten weeks now.

News cameras at the time

recorded the Vaja family in their temporary home.

This big lorry came, bringing Indian spices,

and we make a potato curry, and the chapati, you know,

I told you we are rolling with a bottle.

Yes, I remember it, because in the canteen the food was really nice,

but we're not used to this food.

This building was the camp's job centre,

where Gordon came to be interviewed.

I do remember this place. Implement office here.

Very quiet.

There was a vacancy in Rhondda Valleys,

you know, for the mechanic.

They said, "If you are a good mechanic, you can get a job,

"so we can house you there."

We fix you up with an interview if you're available next Thursday

in the Rhondda.

Gordon and his family moved to the Rhondda Valley

to begin their new life.

They have no regrets about their enforced exile,

only gratitude for the people who helped them when they were in need.

There was time was different,

the place was different,

and there were so many people here.

-Look at now.

-Yes.

As soon as they came here in this camp, you know,

they said that these people, they are homeless,

so do everything possible for them.

-Where can you get this sort of hospitality?

-Nowhere.

If you are ungrateful, I must say there is something wrong with you.

After their flight from Uganda, Hari and Ansuyaben Lakhani

found themselves on a train to Yorkshire.

We didn't know where we are going.

At the time we reached here, it was so dark and cold, you know.

A lot of snow at that time,

I used to cry everyday because I left a good life in Uganda.

But after the initial distress,

the Lakhanis determined to face the trials before them

with courage and perseverance.

You know, we always think whatever is happening is happening for good,

so we just settle down. We just think, yeah, we have got problems.

We left everything there.

It is difficult but there must be something good coming out of it,

and that's why we just came.

Hari and Ansuyaben are retracing those first anxious steps

into the unknown.

Beginning with their first house at Byrl Street, Keighley.

We used to hang our clothes here.

Tie a string and then a stick to hold it up.

The next door neighbour, he just asked me, "Have you just moved in?"

I said, "Yes." He said, "Listen, one thing.

"Don't stay in the house on your own otherwise you'll get mad.

"You have to come out and talk to people."

The Lakhanis had been given their accommodation

and a job in the local factory by local businessman, Peter Black.

Peter had come to England in the '30s

as a Jewish refugee from Germany.

He identified with the plight of the Ugandan Asians

and wanted to offer them the opportunity he had been given.

Today, the Lakhanis are reunited with Peter's son, Thomas Black.

They adapted and they adopted and they worked hard.

They had a colossal spirit and they were popular from day one.

I think people identified with them and wanted them to do well.

Hari and Ansuyaben have never forgotten the generosity

and kindness shown to them by their benefactor and his family.

Their faith teaches them to extend this gift to others.

There are millions of people who are worse off than us,

so if God has given us something, it's our moral duty

to give some of it back to the people who really need more than us,

because somebody has helped us,

so it's our moral duty to help some people. We try our best.

Tonfanau, Ugandan Asian Refugee Camp, North Wales.

As the winter of 1972 closed in around Tonfanau,

Chandrika and her family faced further trials.

Her mother was hospitalised with rheumatic fever.

Her younger brother, traumatised by all that had happened,

became increasingly disruptive. And her father,

seen here in the archive at the camp, was struggling to cope.

My father was really nervous that the camp was closing

and we'd heard that only a few families were left,

we were going to be moved to another resettlement camp.

And my father thought, that's too much. And he said,

"It doesn't matter the size of the house or anything.

"Just a house will do anywhere." And they said, "Penrhys?

"Penrhys? Yeah, sounds good. Off we go."

Penrhys was a new council estate

perched on the top of a hill in the Rhondda.

Chandrika and her brother Athul are driving back there

for the first time in nearly 30 years.

You know, when I look at this, I can't believe that

on Sundays I used to walk to school.

-That's where we would have been.

-Yeah, yeah.

Gosh...

A little council house with two rooms and a little box room

and ten of us, I think, ten of us, yeah.

I think our house was further away.

We were really excited to find out what the town was like.

When we first came here, it didn't feel like a holiday, did it?

It was just too quiet. There was nothing to do.

But then when you settle, it dawns on you that people

were not so well off.

It's still a deprived community, isn't it?

To me, coming to this country was very much going to be

like Enid Blyton stories, you know. Most of the kids are middle-class, having fun and adventure.

I felt like it was going to be a bit like that,

so you really didn't have that concept that actually,

Britain will have people who are poor.

In the 1970s version of austerity Britain,

there was little room for Enid Blyton.

The Rhondda Valley was no stranger to poverty and unemployment,

but Chandrika and her family were made to feel very welcome.

In Penrhys, neighbours were very friendly.

My mother went in and out of neighbours' houses

and they did try to take care of my mum, especially.

They were really fantastic,

absolutely went out of their way to make us feel at home.

But, elsewhere, settling into a new life was more complicated.

Tensions were beginning to mount in those areas

that already had a significant immigrant population.

Leicester population 270,000,

coloured immigrant population around 30,000.

They're coming from another country, we're paying so much a week,

national health and stuff and they get it straight away for nothing.

There's blokes of ours struggling to find work.

It's about time the government took over its responsibilities

and send these people back to their country of origin.

Leicester became the focal point for the growing unrest

when it took out an advert in the Ugandan press

telling potential refugees that they were not wanted.

In spite of the warnings, many exiles made their way to Leicester

because they already had family there.

Mala Lakhani was one of many Ugandan-Asians who had relatives in Leicester.

It's familiarity, isn't it? We were away from our own surroundings,

in a totally unknown new country.

We needed some sort of familiarity to get on with our lives.

The influx of the Ugandan-Asians prompted a political move

to the right with the National Front membership tripling over the next two years.

Mala recalls their intimidating presence in Leicester.

A lovely lady at college explained to us.

She said, "Look, there are all kinds of people in this world and you will get this".

She said, "Don't let this upset you every time you see a National Front leaflet,

"don't get worked up, don't start crying,

"because you are going to have to deal with things like that."

She made us understand there were a section of people who were scared.

This climate of fear and discrimination

also affected Maz Mashru who was working in a camera shop in Leicester.

My manager calls me in his office.

He says, "Mr Mashru, there is a vacancy for an assistant manager

"and unfortunately, I will not be able to offer you that position

"because of the colour of your skin".

First of all, for a day, I felt it's a kind of racism.

But then I looked at it in the long term.

To me it was an awakeness of my own self

that if I don't start my own business,

the day will come that I will be facing the glass ceilings.

Maz saw this discrimination as one more obstacle he needed to overcome.

He opened his own studio.

Happy? Beautiful.

He's now an internationally renowned photographer.

The communities who are celebrating Dussehra, they all acknowledge

that there are great trials and tribulations in life

but teach people to see them as tests.

Many Ugandan-Asians have taken it as a chance

to strengthen their own courage their faith to their community,

their perseverance, and pick themselves up

and succeed to an even greater degree in their new life.

Just across the road from Maz's studio in Leicester

is another Ugandan-Asian success story.

Bobby's restaurant, the brainchild of Mala's father.

We were struggling, literally, day-to-day.

He wasn't skilled in anything, particular, like, he wasn't an accountant or a doctor or anything,

and one day came home and he said, "We're going to open the restaurant"

and we all literally laughed at him, I think.

It was like, "Yeah, sure". My mum was just flabbergasted.

She said, "Are you going to open a restaurant?" He said, "Yes, there is no restaurant on Belgrave Road".

In the 1970s, the Belgrave Road area of Leicester was poor and run down.

Today, thanks to the immigrant communities,

it is the city's great success story,

with Bobby's restaurant at its heart.

My mother was the main cook behind all the recipes and everything,

it was all her recipes that started this restaurant up.

This is her and my dad's legacy, really, to the family.

Leicester is predicted to be the first city in Britain

to have a majority non-white population.

Its first elected mayor is in no doubt that the Ugandan-Asians

have had a positive effect on the life of the city.

Every aspect of our city's life has been enriched

by happened in '72 and what's happened since.

They have changed the social life of the city,

they've enriched the spiritual life of the city. They've transformed the city's political life,

because so many of them have become involved in civic matters

and, I think, that Leicester is a far better city now

than it ever could have dreamt of being in the early 1970s.

The story of the Ugandan-Asians is a story of triumph

in the face of adversity.

The themes of exile, testing, persecution and victory through perseverance

are the themes of the Hindu festival of Dussehra.

It will be a particularly poignant celebration this year.

Dussehra signifies a triumph of good over evil

and I suppose, you could say, the same applies to us over 40 years.

A lot of good has come out of the evil of Amin.

Religions that celebrate Dussehra share this notion of Dharma.

Dharma is the idea that what you face, what you experience

is what is coming to you, it's your fate.

And the idea is to meet that fate with courage

and turn your fate to the best to use it as a way to excel

and move forward in life.

I think, this is exactly what the Ugandan-Asian community

have sought to do with what they've undergone.

At the end of the day, you know, the good things will prevail,

bad things will go.

You should have faith, obviously.

I think we try to forget our wounds,

because, like, if people just talk of their miseries of their life,

they will remain within that negativity.

I would say that for us, coming from Uganda,

and relating to Dussehra would be...

If I look at it now, on top of my head, I would say,

"It is coming back from exile".

We're actually coming home,

because, you know, we were British citizens.

You want to be good to everybody,

so everybody's good to you. That's it.

That's my basic philosophy

and, yes, I'm very proud again, I say, that I am a British Asian.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd