[UAH] Refusing to sell his car made him an enemy of Amin’s govt - Special Reports - monitor.co.ug
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Summary
Troubles in the 70s. In this third installment of our series "Road to Exile", we feature Israel Mayengo, a private businessman and lawyer who joined politics after being forced into exile during Idi Amin's regime. His crime was refusing to sell his Citroën car to a soldier.
I returned to Uganda in 1973 after the fall of Milton Obote. I was living in America, where I was a student leader of the East African Students Union in America, which brought together students from Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania.
As the union head, I was responsible for the publication of the Vanguard, where I wrote a lot about Obote and what was happening in Uganda and East Africa. This put me on the spotlight as one of Uganda's students living abroad, who needed to be 'dealt with' once I was back into the country. This forced me to continue living in America, despite completing my studies. On return, I established a company called MKM Corporation, representing a number of American companies dealing in textiles, Motorola products, among others.
The expulsion of Asians was a chance for me to grow my business. While others were taking over their shops, I was looking for a way to replace the Indian agents. Their departure had created a vacuum and this is what I exploited to grow my business empire.
With this new approach to business, I registered another company, Travelling Wheelers, which was comprised of several trucks that ferried goods to different parts of the country.
One day in 1976, a soldier walked into my office on Impala House, asking to buy one of my vehicles, a Citroën.
I told him it was costly to buy such a car but he insisted, and I sent him to my accountant to know the price. On learning the cost, he asked to go for a road test before negotiating the price. Accompanied by two drivers, he went for a road test until the car ran out of fuel. He then gave the driver an empty beer bottle to fetch fuel. When he was told that such an amount of fuel could not start the car, he dismissed the drivers and reported to me what had happened.
The next day, the drivers returned to where they had left the car, near present day Mukwano Industries, but it was not there. Three days later, it was seen around town, being driven by the same soldier. On the fourth day, he was arrested at City Bar along Kampala Road and taken to Makindye Military Police Barracks, where the case was reported to the head of the military police, Maj Madudu, who asked to see the owner of the car.
Sent to the coolers
When I got there, Maj Madudu accused me of soiling the army's image by calling them thieves and ordered my immediate detention. In the dungeons, I found soldiers dressed in only underpants, beating up prisoners as if their lives depended on it. One of them threw me on the ground, put a piece of wood over my head and sat on it as he smoked. It was horrifying!
My family, with the help of then Education minister, Brig Barnabas Kili, went to the vice president, Mustapha Adrisi, to try and rescue me. Adrissi then went to Makindye looking for me but he was told by Maj Madudu that I had already been released.
A week later, he was told that I was still in jail and he ordered my immediate release.
I walked from Makindye to Kibuye roundabout barefooted until I got a special hire taxi to take me to Muyenga.
During my incarceration, the people I worked with learnt that Maj Madudu was using soldiers to steal civilian's vehicles. One morning while at office, about two weeks after my release, I received a call from Joseph Magoba, the then head of Unesco, asking me to go to his office on Postal Building.
As I learnt, Magoba had been informed by his driver, whose brother was a state research agent that I was to be arrested at 2pm that day.
The driver's brother came to office later that day and confirmed my pending arrest and tha "I will be finished off". He advised me to leave the country as soon as possible, saying the arresting document called "Gate Pass" was only awaiting his boss' signature.
That night I called my friends Erisa Sendaza and Prof Moses Serwada and told them what was happening. I asked them to prepare to drive me out of the country. We set off from Kampala at 5am and drove straight to St Andrew's College, Tororo, a private school I had started immediately after leaving Kings College Buddo in 1959.
At the school, I picked my brother John Sonko, who was the headmaster. I briefed him about what was happening and he gave me clothes to change, so I could look like a casual labourer at the border.
With his kikapu (bag) we were driven close to the Busia border. We managed to sneak out safely.
On reaching Kenya, I changed my clothes and got a taxi to Nairobi. At Nairobi Post Office, I had only Ksh85, with nowhere to sleep.
I went to Norfolk Hotel, where I knew a one Kefa Kakumba, who had fled the country earlier. Unfortunately, I was told he had not worked that day. Surprisingly, as I left the hotel, we met at the entrance as he came to collect his clothes from the hotel's laundry section. Kefa took me to his small house – and there I spent my first night in exile.
Finding a home in Nairobi
Earlier on, I had helped Princess Elizabeth Bagaya escape, so the next day I got in touch with her.
She in turn contacted President Kenyatta, telling him about my plight and how I had helped her escape from Uganda.
Summary
Troubles in the 70s. In this third installment of our series "Road to Exile", we feature Israel Mayengo, a private businessman and lawyer who joined politics after being forced into exile during Idi Amin's regime. His crime was refusing to sell his Citroën car to a soldier.
I returned to Uganda in 1973 after the fall of Milton Obote. I was living in America, where I was a student leader of the East African Students Union in America, which brought together students from Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania.
As the union head, I was responsible for the publication of the Vanguard, where I wrote a lot about Obote and what was happening in Uganda and East Africa. This put me on the spotlight as one of Uganda's students living abroad, who needed to be 'dealt with' once I was back into the country. This forced me to continue living in America, despite completing my studies. On return, I established a company called MKM Corporation, representing a number of American companies dealing in textiles, Motorola products, among others.
The expulsion of Asians was a chance for me to grow my business. While others were taking over their shops, I was looking for a way to replace the Indian agents. Their departure had created a vacuum and this is what I exploited to grow my business empire.
With this new approach to business, I registered another company, Travelling Wheelers, which was comprised of several trucks that ferried goods to different parts of the country.
One day in 1976, a soldier walked into my office on Impala House, asking to buy one of my vehicles, a Citroën.
I told him it was costly to buy such a car but he insisted, and I sent him to my accountant to know the price. On learning the cost, he asked to go for a road test before negotiating the price. Accompanied by two drivers, he went for a road test until the car ran out of fuel. He then gave the driver an empty beer bottle to fetch fuel. When he was told that such an amount of fuel could not start the car, he dismissed the drivers and reported to me what had happened.
The next day, the drivers returned to where they had left the car, near present day Mukwano Industries, but it was not there. Three days later, it was seen around town, being driven by the same soldier. On the fourth day, he was arrested at City Bar along Kampala Road and taken to Makindye Military Police Barracks, where the case was reported to the head of the military police, Maj Madudu, who asked to see the owner of the car.
Sent to the coolers
When I got there, Maj Madudu accused me of soiling the army's image by calling them thieves and ordered my immediate detention. In the dungeons, I found soldiers dressed in only underpants, beating up prisoners as if their lives depended on it. One of them threw me on the ground, put a piece of wood over my head and sat on it as he smoked. It was horrifying!
My family, with the help of then Education minister, Brig Barnabas Kili, went to the vice president, Mustapha Adrisi, to try and rescue me. Adrissi then went to Makindye looking for me but he was told by Maj Madudu that I had already been released.
A week later, he was told that I was still in jail and he ordered my immediate release.
I walked from Makindye to Kibuye roundabout barefooted until I got a special hire taxi to take me to Muyenga.
During my incarceration, the people I worked with learnt that Maj Madudu was using soldiers to steal civilian's vehicles. One morning while at office, about two weeks after my release, I received a call from Joseph Magoba, the then head of Unesco, asking me to go to his office on Postal Building.
As I learnt, Magoba had been informed by his driver, whose brother was a state research agent that I was to be arrested at 2pm that day.
The driver's brother came to office later that day and confirmed my pending arrest and tha "I will be finished off". He advised me to leave the country as soon as possible, saying the arresting document called "Gate Pass" was only awaiting his boss' signature.
That night I called my friends Erisa Sendaza and Prof Moses Serwada and told them what was happening. I asked them to prepare to drive me out of the country. We set off from Kampala at 5am and drove straight to St Andrew's College, Tororo, a private school I had started immediately after leaving Kings College Buddo in 1959.
At the school, I picked my brother John Sonko, who was the headmaster. I briefed him about what was happening and he gave me clothes to change, so I could look like a casual labourer at the border.
With his kikapu (bag) we were driven close to the Busia border. We managed to sneak out safely.
On reaching Kenya, I changed my clothes and got a taxi to Nairobi. At Nairobi Post Office, I had only Ksh85, with nowhere to sleep.
I went to Norfolk Hotel, where I knew a one Kefa Kakumba, who had fled the country earlier. Unfortunately, I was told he had not worked that day. Surprisingly, as I left the hotel, we met at the entrance as he came to collect his clothes from the hotel's laundry section. Kefa took me to his small house – and there I spent my first night in exile.
Finding a home in Nairobi
Earlier on, I had helped Princess Elizabeth Bagaya escape, so the next day I got in touch with her.
She in turn contacted President Kenyatta, telling him about my plight and how I had helped her escape from Uganda.
The next day when my people went to the goods shed, the coffee was gone and we never traced it again.
I took a step and tried to seek financial assistance from Patel Paphul, who was the head of Asians expelled from Uganda in Britain. I also sold my home in Muyenga, presently housing Café Roma. All this was to raise money for the war.
editorial@ug.nationmedia.c
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