My experience of Amin’s reign of terror

When my mother left us in Nairobi in February 1977, we did not know that our father was dead. All we knew was that he had been arrested. By then, I was 11-years-old. That evening, mum had called Kampala and she was told of what had happened. In the wee hours of the next morning, she left Nairobi to come back to Kampala with Sgt Obyai. We did not know whether we would ever see her again.
That very day, some people from the Kenyan Special Branch came home and said they had been sent by then vice president [Daniel arap] Moi to come and provide us with security. And they stayed until when Amin was overthrown in 1979.
When I came home for lunch that fateful day, I found my elder brother, Michael, home. As we had lunch with my uncle Gawiri, Michael said “ahhh”. He had been listening to BBC. We asked him what that was all about. “Dad is dead,” he replied.

Running back to school
My other brother, Sam, was not at home as he had stayed at school. I immediately threw down the fork and ran out to go back to school. I went straight to the head teacher’s office to tell him the news. He said: “I have heard.”
I went out to look for my brother. I found him with Uhuru Kenyatta [now President of Kenya] and other boys. When I told him, there was total silence in the entire group. He told me to go back home, saying he was to follow soon.

From that moment, our home was total chaos. Many people, mostly Ugandans who had already fled the country, were coming home to grieve with us. About two days later, there was a memorial service for Archbishop Janani Luwum and the two ministers killed with him in Nairobi. Archbishop Luwum’s children were not there but some of Erinayo Oryema’s and all of us, except the last born who was two weeks old.

It was uncle Gawiri (RIP) and Michael who took on the role of head of the family. There was also an old askari named Ouma, whom my father had transferred from Uganda since he was originally from Kenya. After a while he retired and went away. Schoolsmates including Gideon Moi, John Mark Moi [sons of former President Arap Moi] and Uhuru Kenyata used to come around and hung with us at home.

The last time I saw my father, we were flying out to Nairobi to start school. He escorted us to the airport, through the VIP Lounge. He went with us all the way to the tarmac. When we boarded the plane I turned to wave at him. He waved back and went away. That was the last time I saw him.

Coming home

I first came back to Uganda more than a year after my father death. But I still had this thinking that the doctors could do something to have him resurrected. It was a childish thinking, that he would be alive some few months later.
It was my auntie, Joyce, who came with a Combi van and said she had come to take us home in Tororo at least to visit. We were escorted by the Kenyan police all the way to the Malaba border. They handed us over to the immigrations officials and they told us to inform them when we would be returning to Nairobi such that they could pick us from the same place. We came home for a week and went back.

At the border, I was scared that may be we would get killed. The soldiers were rude but when they saw our passports and asked if we were the children of the late minister, we answered in the affirmative and they kind of sympathised with us.
When we got home, we found the grave already built and there were soldiers guarding it. We started crying and people ran to find out what was happening. On seeing us, the soldiers asked who we were. They were told that were the deceased’s children and they allowed us to go and see the grave. It was very traumatic. But after a week, we went back to Nairobi.