Guards tie up Amin, force him into car as regime collapses

On April 11, 1979 when his government was overthrown, dad was still at Munyonyo in the vicinity of Kampala.

This year marks 34 years since Idi Amin was overthrown on April 11 by a combined force of Tanzania People’s Defence Forces (TPDF) and Ugandan exiles. In this fifth issue of our six-part series on Amin’s last days in power, his son Jaffar Remo Amin, narrates his father’s escape from a “smoking” Kampala, his boisterous address in Jinja and Soroti, and near death in Gulu as he desperately tried to reach Arua and his hometown of Koboko.

For all the allegations of cowardice and other characterisations levelled against dad over the years by his enemies, at the 11th hour, dad proved all these allegations and characterisations wrong.
Here was a man who against the advice of his officers and Crack Presidential Guards had decided to remain in Kampala to await his fate after having ensured that his loved ones had been evacuated.

“A captain does not abandon his ship” scenario was played out to devastating effect on April 6, 1979 when dad made an announcement on Uganda Broadcasting Corporation radio that he would stay in the country.

During this broadcast, he called on Ugandans not to be afraid of the “cowardly enemy bombardment with long range artillery”, adding that “the enemy has only seized part of south Buganda, together with a little part of Ankole.” Dad insisted, “I will stay here except when I leave Kampala for another place in Uganda”.
With Kampala almost falling, this announcement by dad prompted senior army officers like Mzee Yosa, Sergeant Bhuga from the Gimara Kakwa clan, Captain Asio of the Nyooke Kakwa clan and several hefty presidential guards to plot to get their commander-in-chief out of Kampala with or without his permission.

On April 11, 1979 when his government was overthrown, dad was still at Munyonyo in the vicinity of Kampala. He wanted to die in battle like a true soldier but several of his Presidential Guards would not let him. They actually immobilised him in the process with straps and placed him in his factory prepared 200 series Mercedes Benz coupe rally car. Then the convoy of expensive Mercedes Benz 240 SEL 6.4s set off in tow for Jinja just as Kampala was occupied by the “liberators”.
At Jinja, dad made an emotional speech to Ugandans in general and the Basoga in particular as he was fleeing to safety in a convoy headed for Arua and Koboko in northern Uganda.

Dad told the scared crowd that had been hurriedly assembled that Jinja is where he would make his last stand and die, if need be. He reminded the Basoga and his countrymen of all the good he had tried to do for his fellow native Africans and yet “all the thanks he gets for it is them turning against him”.

“You want me to go but one day you will lament that maybe I was good for the country after all,” he said. “You will then look for me but you will not find me.” “People will cry after me but they will not find me,” dad continued, amidst the initial murmurs of “Agende Kajambiya”.
Ironically, dad’s words to Ugandans through an assembled crowd of Basoga are the same words Ugandans lament over three decades later after witnessing years of grinding poverty and seeing the truth come to pass in that singular farewell.
According to him [dad], he spent that whole week in eastern Uganda with Jumba Masagazi running to and from the Malaba-Busia border trying to get the fuel his regime had paid for but the Kenyans refused to release it claiming that a new government was in place. The fuel, he hoped, could help his remaining forces move and push back the invaders.

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On Wednesday, April 11, 1979 at 7am,deposed dad advised his troops on Radio Deuschwelle (Federal Republic of West Germany):
“Mimi bado Rahisi ya Uganda. Usitupe bunduki yako. Kufa na bunduki yako” (“I am still the President of Uganda. Don’t throw away your gun.

Die with your gun”). That was the first time many people (including my avatar Juma) heard him speak after his final broadcast in Kampala.
That same day, the BBC World Service announced the fall of Kampala to the Tanzanian forces commanded by Colonel Benjamin Msuya. BBC correspondent John Osman and BBC stringer Charles Harrison had kept the world abreast with the rapidly changing military situation in Uganda.

Late on April 10, 1979, unconfirmed reports had said the Tanzanian forces were already in Kampala.

John Osman had interviewed dad in February 1977 on the circumstances of the deaths of Anglican Archbishop Janan Luwum and two cabinet ministers Lt. Col. Wilson Erinayo Oryema and Charles Oboth-Ofumbi. So he had closely followed events that unfolded in Uganda preceding dad’s “speedy” fall from the “highest position in the land” and he was familiar with Uganda’s politics.

However, Radio Uganda was silent on the news. Instead the home service on medium wave and the external service on short wave frequencies were both playing light music.

Then at about 3:56pm, transmission on UBC was interrupted. After a few moments of silence, the heavy Luo-accented voice of a man came on air. He introduced himself as Lt. Col. David Oyite-Ojok. In a broadcast that was not very clear, the words “...Idi Amin is no longer in power...” filtered through. At 4:20pm that afternoon, Lt. Col. Oyite-Ojok’s announcement was repeated on the home service of Radio Uganda. This was the historic message broadcast on that fateful day by David Oyite-Ojok:
“Fellow countrymen, I am Lt. Col. David Oyite-Ojok. On behalf of the Uganda National Liberation Forces, I bring you good news. The Ugandan Liberation Forces have captured the Uganda...capital of Kampala today Wednesday, 11 April 1979...Idi Amin is no longer in power...”

However, something odd happened at 5pm when the external frequency on short-wave of UBC came on air, out of the blue, playing light music.
Those old enough to remember would know that the external service of Radio Uganda broadcasted from the Dakabela relay station in Soroti, 208km east of Kampala. Then it went off air as abruptly as it had come on.

“What was going on?” asked nervous Ugandans. There was silence for more than four hours, which only heightened the tension in Kampala. Then at 8pm, the state-owned radio in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania announced in Kiswahili that it was now going to link up with Radio Uganda in Kampala for a special message. Then in English, came the announcement, “This is Radio Uganda. Stand by for an address to the nation by Mr. Yusuf K. Lule, chairman of the Executive Committee of the Uganda National Liberation Front.”