90 Days
During a visit from a friend, I learned that he was organising an event to commemorate the Ugandan Expulsion of Asians of August 1972, given it was almost 50 years since it happened. I didn’t know much about the event at the time, but I had just started writing poetry again. My friend asked me to create a poem for the event he had planned on September 10th 2022 in Leicester, UK.
I found it difficult to capture the most poignant details, whilst keeping the poem a manageable length. So, I ended up writing two poems!
On this page, you’ll find the shortened poem, “90 Days”, intended for all those who survived and settled in Leicestershire, UK.
The other poem will soon be published and can be accessed by clicking on the ‘Learn More’ button.
90 days with which to move;
A mighty phase for those removed.
Queues confused with what to do,
Passports, papers, please what to prove?
An exodus ensues, Idi Amin amused…
The limit told was Fifty pounds,
The toll however, was fifty rounds.
The bones of cases piled up high,
Burned under the beating Sun and sky.
Delays, and only days, to exit this maze –
Of deliberate exclusion, surely delusion?
Mother Africa poisoned by her own,
An induced labour of precious child grown.
The womb of plenty was now a tomb of empty;
This Queen was now an envious green.
If the Asians stayed, they were surely slayed.
Motivation it seemed, were shillings and cents,
Justification deemed was Killings incensed,
Compounding Menace and Beleaguered then,
Surrounded by Jealous and Meagred men…
Soldiers mobilised, Businesses paralysed,
Which granted the greed – The greedy freed…
To steal, and stab, and pillage, and rape,
And beat, and spit, and shoot, and berate,
The road to Kampala was peppered in red,
At checkpoints, it was clear some were already dead… Heated debate amongst locals with guns,
Bleated hate with angst… Speaking in tongues,
Families, pleaded to protect their young,
Some were able to flee and flew.
Despite despair, scarred and scared,
They had narrowly escaped a nightmare.
Here, and there, new curious faces stared,
To 27,000, new homes now shared.
There was some fear, some compassion,
Some just ridiculed the fashion,
Others were generous and kind,
Some paid them no mind.
Even when everything had been taken,
And their families left shaken;
Their homes, their jobs, their cars,
With faith in the protection from their stars,
Like the diamonds in their hair, once forbidden,
The strength within; strong – but only hidden.
Each wrist had allowed just one gold band,
The twisted symbol of having bound hand,
But the metal was melted tirelessly by kin,
The fire Amin alluded to, actually burned within.
And so Asians, now safe and sound,
And some now earn British pound,
Now saved, as this creation paved,
The way for future generations,
And future celebrations, like Diwali in Belgrave!
With little to spare, little power nor hope,
Only courage and prayers helped those to cope,
This thriving city, once grey and forlorn,
Is surviving and pretty, now transformed!
Take the Golden Mile where jewellery is sold,
Where styles of saris are colourful and bold!
Take a stroll, where rotis & paans are rolled,
Behold, this is Leicester,
Where all that glitters is gold!
