As we consider that fateful moment, fifty years ago, when Idi Amin forced thousands of Ugandan Asians to leave their homeland, many will reflect on the economic success that followed that exodus.
On all those amazing businesses that grew through sheer effort, not just in Britain, but also in Canada and the United States. Many of the exiles, who were predominantly Gujaratis, set up pharmacies, for example. Gujaratis now probably own more independent pharmacies in Britain and the United States than any other group. Then there were those, like me, who ran post offices, or built hotels or care homes, as I also did. My pride and joy in the care-home category, Karuna Manor in Harrow, is still going strong.
On the 2nd of November a National Commemoration Event, hosted by His Majesty, King Charles III took place at Buckingham Palace. The event was organised by the British Asian Trust charity and led by the chair, my noble friend Lord Gadhia which gave us all the opportunity to reflect on the significant achievements of those who were welcomed here. Not just the individuals themselves but also their subsequent generations. These achievements, ranging from small-scale enterprises (shops, post offices and pharmacies) to professional services (accountancy and law) to large-scale enterprises (principally in banking and manufacturing) have all found success on the basis of a single ethos: joining in. A single ethos with a specific intent: becoming British.
A lot of the focus of this anniversary will be on the bigger businesses built by those who fled with nothing, or at least not very much. The largest numbers arrived in Britain on a series of cold autumn mornings at Stansted airport in 1972. The first plane saw 193 scared but hopeful Ugandan Asians arrive. Stansted wasn’t the bustling airport it is today, more like a bunch of hangars. Shivering as they were processed, many were taken to an RAF camp at Stradishall in Suffolk, which was organised by the UK Ugandan Resettlement Board.
Out of these kind (because Britain was not obliged to make us welcome; it was a gift) but nonetheless harsh beginnings, a great many business stories began, whether in accountancy, jewellery, SME financing, motor parts distribution and so many other spheres besides.
What I’d like to think about now is how small the beginnings of this broad success was. How many of us older folks had parents with tiny shops in Kampala or Jinja? Thousands, probably. How many of us lived pretty much hand to mouth there, with family members all doing extra work of one type or another to make ends meet? My brother Manoj used to take in sewing. I can still remember the whirr and thump of his old Singer. He later became a successful accountant in Canada. Going back to Uganda to visit our old house in Tororo, a few years ago, I was amazed how cramped and gloomy that little place was, even though my childhood memories are predominantly positive.
When we did get to Britain, or wherever we pitched up, times were still hard at first and the pickings modest. I myself worked in a Wimpy Bar in London’s Kilburn, clearing tables: learning to joke with the lary builders who were some of our main customers was part of my acculturation in Britain. A key fact is that we all began working, in whatever role, as soon as we arrived. It was easier in those days to get national insurance documentation, a key hurdle, a matter of hours!
One should not underestimate the level of racism there was, but nor should one over-rate it either. The truth is, like those who emigrated to Britain between 1948 and 1971 from Caribbean countries, the Windrush generation, we slowly began to fit in. It wasn’t just about us changing though: Britain learned our virtues, just as we learned Britain’s virtues. The country of Enoch Powell began to transform into the country of Lenny Henry and Sanjeev Bhaskar.
With the arrival of the 1980s, it became easier for many who fled Uganda in the 1970s to make rapid progress in different types of business, but that didn’t apply to all. A lot of expelled Ugandan Asians worked all their lives in factories, for example at the Ford Motor plant in Dagenham, or at Leyland in Coventry. By and large, I’d say it was easier for those of us who were self-employed. We were able to grow serial small businesses. A 1976 Daily Mail article estimated that Ugandan Asians had taken over 4,000 grocery stores, 1,000 newsagents, 500 sub-post offices and 300 pharmacies. That probably understates by a large margin the amount of commercial activity.
I myself jumped from post offices to accountancy, from accountancy to SME finance, from that to care homes and hotels and so on into larger enterprise. My own story is quite typical in that way. Whilst growing my business, I felt called to be part of the community and to get involved in politics. I saw this was a way of influencing what was happening both locally and nationally in a way that we should have done all those years ago. I was then offered the opportunity to be a Member of the House of Lords, something I gladly accepted as I understood would allow me to make a much bigger impact than I would have been able to make in business. I saw it as my civic duty to serve my country and represent my community.
Being self-employed was scary as well as flexible. There were times when many of us nearly went under. I was about to write ‘there was no safety net’, but that’s not quite right. How many of us borrowed money from family members to take the next risk? Check. How many of us went to some older more experienced member of the Ugandan Asian community for advice? Check. How many of relied on the advice of a Ugandan Asian working in a professional role, such as a solicitor or accountant? Check.
The generational growth of different occupations among those of Ugandan Asian extraction has been one of the happiest outcomes of the expulsion. I’m not just talking about the lawyers and doctors whom so many of our children and children’s children have become, admirable as that is, but about the manifold routes by which those of Ugandan Asian extraction have integrated successfully into the United Kingdom. As the sense that our community had found a homeland that we loved and by which we were honoured rose, Ugandan Asians themselves rose to the top in all walks of British life. This is true whether it be: politics and banking (Shriti Vadera and Jitesh Gadhia, both now fellow peers with me in the House of Lords); policing (Tarique Ghaffur, formerly Assistant Commissioner–Central Operations, Metropolitan Police); sport (Warwickshire cricketer Asif Din), and the media (journalist Yasmin Alibhai-Brown).
So what is the common thread? It’s hard work, above all. Also beliefs in aspiration, self-reliance, personal enterprise and the importance of family and community. These are things in which the vast majority of people of this country also believe. It’s why we have fitted in, more and more so over the past half-century. And you know what? The story of Ugandan Asian success in Britain, small and large, is not over: it’s still ongoing.
