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Ugandan President Idi Amin is carried in a chair by four British businessmen during a party for diplomats, July 1975, in Kampala, Uganda. Idi Amin Dada, the third president of Uganda ruled from 1971 to 1979. His rule was characterised by political repression, ethnic persecution, extrajudicial killings, nepotism, corruption, and gross economic mismanagement.

Butcher of Uganda

Idi Amin Dada, who became known as the ‘Butcher of Uganda’ for his brutal, despotic rule whilst president of Uganda in the 1970s, is possibly the most notorious of all Africa’s post-independence dictators. Amin seized power in a military coup in 1971 and ruled over Uganda for 8 years. Estimates for the number of his opponents who were killed, tortured, or imprisoned vary from 100,000 to half a million.

Amin was known to have egotistical behaviours and even bestowed on himself the title, “His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular.” 

For much of the 1970’s, the beefy, sadistic and telegenic despot had reveled in the spotlight of world attention as he flaunted his tyrannical power, hurled outlandish insults at world leaders and staged pompous displays of majesty.

By contrast, his later years were spent in enforced isolation as the Saudi Arabian authorities made sure he maintained a low profile. Amin, a convert to Islam, his four wives and more than 60 children fled Uganda just ahead of an invading force of Ugandan exiles and Tanzanian troops that overthrew his government. They went first to Libya, and eventually to Saudi Arabia.

By the time he had escaped with his life, the devastation he had wreaked lay fully exposed in the scarred ruins of Uganda.

In 1991 the Saudis were eager to get their hands on Saddam Hussein so they could try him for his treachery. Yet, living undisturbed in sanctuary in the Red Sea port was one of the most despicable butchers in history  — a man who had the limbs chopped off his ex-wife, a man who once stored the heads of his enemies in his freezer so he could berate them, a man who chided Adolf Hitler for “killing too few Jews.”

Idi Amin Dada, the one-time Ugandan dictator, made Saddam look like an amateur. Amin tortured and murdered hundreds of thousands of his own people and, in a ceremony to gain power over his enemies, ate some of their body parts. His eight-year reign of terror ended when he was overthrown in 1979 by an army of Tanzanians and Ugandan rebels.

And when he had nowhere else to turn, Saudi Arabia took him in. Even Moammar Gadhafi, the “mad dog of the Middle East,” washed his paws of Amin. Gadhafi first let Amin find shelter in Libya, and then threw him out. When the full extent of Amin’s butchery became broadly known, Gadhafi publicly apologized for having supported him.

Idi Amin the dictator of Uganda and self proclaimed King of Scotland. President Idi Amin Dada Oumee was the third president of Uganda, arguably the most popular or notorious president of Africa at his time as well the most well-known historic president of Uganda. Idi Amin as a six foot four and, at his peak, 20 stone, was the former heavyweight boxing champion of Uganda, skillful Rugby player, swimmer, soldier and a politician.

Amin, was always politically correct if morally repulsive. The Saudis were not unhappy when Amin led other African nations in breaking relations with Israel. He even promised to build a statue of Adolf Hitler until other African leaders talked him out of it.

In 1976, Amin welcomed Palestinian and West European guerrillas to Entebbe when they brought with them a hijacked French airliner full of Israelis. After Israel staged a successful raid on the Entebbe airport and rescued the hostages, Amin vented his rage on the one lone Israeli left behind, 73-year-old Dora Bloch, who had been hospitalized. She was beaten, shot and buried in an anonymous grave.

There were so many bodies to dispose of during Amin’s reign that his men tossed them into the Nile to be eaten by crocodiles. But there weren’t enough crocodiles, so the bodies floated ashore for all to see. About 30 of them clogged Uganda’s key dam and had to be extracted by scuba divers so the electrical generators could be started up again.

Amin died in August 2003, aged 78. He was buried in Saudi Arabia where he had spent the last 24 years of his life in exile, disgrace and silence. He was viewed in the West as a murderous buffoon, a jovial psychopath. In eight bloody years, from 1971 to 1978, his brutal regime has been blamed for the deaths of up to 500,000 people in mass executions and tribal purges. Some political prisoners were forced to kill each other with sledgehammers.

His extraordinary physical presence was legendary, as were his unnatural appetites. Rumours of cannibalism swirled around the despot and it was claimed he kept the heads of his most powerful enemies in his fridge. Amin’s bloodlust was matched only by his craving for women. He fathered about 60 children – the exact number is unknown

Kay Adroia Amin, wife of Idi Amin who disappeared.

Those murdered were mostly anonymous people: farmers, students, clerks and shopkeepers who were shot or forced to bludgeon one another to death by members of death squads, including the chillingly named Public Safety Unit and the State Research Bureau. Along with the military police, these forces numbering 18,000 men were recruited largely from Amin’s home region. They often chose their victims because they wanted their money, houses, or women, or because the tribal groups the victims belonged to were marked for humiliation.

But there were also many hundreds of prominent men and women among the dead. Their killings were public affairs carried out in ways that were meant to attract attention, terrorize the living, and convey the message that it was Amin who wanted them killed. They included cabinet ministers, Supreme Court judges, diplomats, university rectors, educators, prominent Catholic and Anglican churchmen, hospital directors, surgeons, bankers, tribal leaders and business executives.

As an awareness of spreading horror and suffering filtered out of Uganda, Amin began to address the criticism, choosing words that intentionally added insult to injury. He declared that Hitler had been right to kill six million Jews. Having already called Julius Nyerere, then the president of Tanzania, a coward, an old woman and a prostitute, he announced that he loved Nyerere and ”would have married him if he had been a woman.” He called Kenneth Kaunda, then the president of Zambia, an ”imperialist puppet and bootlicker” and Henry A. Kissinger ”a murderer and a spy.” He said he expected Queen Elizabeth to send him ” her 25-year-old knickers” in celebration of the silver anniversary of her coronation.

In other comments he offered to become king of Scotland and lead his Celtic subjects to independence from Britain. He forced white residents of Kampala to carry him on a throne and kneel before him as photographers captured the moment for the world to see. He also ejected Peace Corps volunteers and the United States marines who had guarded the American Embassy in Kampala.

Mr. Amin’s flagrant brutality, coupled with his seemingly erratic behavior and calculating insults, aroused disgust but also fascination far beyond Uganda’s borders. Some African nationalists cheered his insults of Europeans. Radical Arabs, led by Muammar el-Qaddafi of Libya, actively courted him as an ally, and for a time so did the Soviet Union. But there were others who questioned his sanity. Harold Wilson, the then leader of the British Labour Party, called him ”mentally unbalanced.” Mr. Kaunda described him as ”a madman, a buffoon.”

Many, however, who had observed him long and carefully from close quarters warned against such judgments. ”Capricious, impulsive, violent and aggressive he certainly is, but to dismiss him as just plain crazy is to underestimate his shrewdness, his ruthless cunning and his capacity to consolidate power with calculated terror,” wrote Christopher Munnion, a reporter for The Daily Telegraph, after he was detained at the notorious Makindye military barracks, where four of his cellmates, former police officers, were killed with sledge hammers.

There were more than a few blots in his record book. He was charged with failing to obtain treatment for venereal disease. This might have been the basis of allegations that his erratic behaviour reflected the mental degeneration of untreated syphilis.

White diplomats bowing down to president Amin whilst reciting “Oath of Allegiance” to him as a ruler of Uganda.

Fourteen white Europeans kneel before Ugandan President Idi Amin during a ceremony where the 14 pledged to take up arms for Uganda in this Sept. 29, 1975, in Kampala, Uganda. Of the 14, seven Britons and one Dutchman were already Ugandan citizens.

To Jaffar Amin, the 6ft 4in dictator was known simply as ‘Big Daddy’.

He is the now 50-year-old English-educated son of the dictator. Jaffar and some of his siblings were finally allowed to return a decade later. ‘When we left Uganda we fell from the highest of the high, from a position of extravagance and power, to the lowest of the low and it has been very difficult. ‘People can call my father a tyrant or a despot but I want to show the human face of absolute power.

‘To show that my father was a human being and that, to me, he was and always will be a good father.’

Jaffar Amin was born in 1966. That same year Milton Obote, Uganda’s first prime minister after the country won independence from Britain, promoted Idi Amin to army chief of staff. ‘My mother Marguerite was the sister of my father’s first wife, Sarah’, says Jaffar. ‘She was the wet nurse to Sarah’s children, so that’s how they met. Although my father did not separate from Sarah then, the relationship between my father and my mother wreaked havoc, even though it was an informal relationship, and after my birth they separated.’

At the age of three Jaffar was farmed out to Idi’s mother, Aisha. ‘She was a very commanding figure,’ says Jaffar. ‘She called my father ‘Awongo’ meaning ‘the one who cries a lot’ because he did as a child. My father loved her completely. He was in awe of her, she was everything to him.’

The move to live with his grandmother began a childhood odyssey that would see Jaffar eventually meet dozens of his father’s offspring by six marriages and countless mistresses. ‘We Africans are polygamous by nature. We accept children from inside and outside matrimony. ‘Marriage is not important because in Africa we have a ‘Bride Prize’ where the parents of a woman who has become pregnant out of wedlock approach the family of the father and ask for compensation, maybe a cow. My father paid a lot of bride prizes in his life.’

Uganda’s top court has ruled that “bride price”, when a man pays his future wife’s family for her hand in marriage, is legal. But the judges have banned the practice of refunding the bride price on the dissolution of a marriage. The custom of paying bride prices is widely practiced in Africa, but traditions vary.

South Africa: Known as “lobola”, it is a sign of the man’s commitment to take care of his wife and is seen as a symbolic act rather than a purchase.

Niger: There is an official maximum rate for a bride price of 50,000 CFA francs ($83, £54) but many pay much more than this.

Kenya: Pastoral communities insist that it is paid in cattle and it has been cited as a cause of cattle rustling.

Across the African continent, the tradition of the dowry remains a key pillar of unifying a man and woman in matrimony. Among the Southern African Zulu tribe the process is known as Lobola, the Igbo tribe of West Africa call it Ikpo Onu aku Nwayi and in the East African state of Tanzania it is referred to as Mahari. The history of many sub-Saharan countries reveals that the practice of bride price was borne out of an agricultural and cattle-based economy where wealth and status were exhibited by how big your family was and how much livestock you owned. A wedding represented the loss of a daughter to a family, hence the loss of labour and someone to tend to younger children within the family. A young man, in paying bride price, would give the bride’s family gifts of livestock to replenish labour and to act as a source of food; cows and goats therefore were and are still typically offered as gifts to the bride’s family. In the modern era, this has taken on a new form, that of money and drinks. However, this practice has been transformed hugely in the advent of Africa’s cash economy. In fact, should the man fail to pay the bride price, his prospective wife gets recalled until the husband fulfils his obligation. In Zimbabwe, for instance, daughters are now a high-priced commodity. The bride price has become a means of escaping poverty, as parents demand huge sums of money from their in-laws.

“When people are mired in such hunger as we have been seeing in this country for years, they will do anything to survive, especially demanding for high bride prices. It is not surprising that many parents are looking to the bride-price as one way to make ends meet. Unless the economic meltdown is addressed, we will continue to see parents commodifying their daughters,” explains Innocent Makwiramiti, an economist based in Harare, Zimbabwe.

Ugandan dictator Idi Amin eating a piece of roast chicken at Koboko, Uganda.

When Jaffar’s grandmother died in 1969, he was left in the care of a number of his father’s close military allies. The future president’s children were housed in boarding schools in a series of army barracks that would become the scenes of dramatic military attacks – often witnessed by the young Amins. ‘One of the schools was close to an armoury, which was the site of a confrontation between troops loyal to my father and the opposition,’ Jaffar recalls.

‘Everyone was in the dormitory under big metal beds with gunfire raging outside. It was unbelievable for a small kid. ‘Our guardian eventually came in and told us everything was fine. The people trying to attack had been forced back.

‘We were transferred to another barracks. I suppose you could say our father had put us in danger, but he always had key people to look after his affairs. He made sure we had guardian angels.’ Jaffar did not meet Idi face-to-face until 1970, when he was four and his father 45. As with most things in Amin’s life, the encounter was bizarre and unsettling. The bewildered boy was ushered into a stately dining room where, at the end of a large ornate table bedecked with finest British silver cutlery, sat a huge bear of a man wearing a multi-coloured African shirt and American khaki trousers. He did not raise his sweat-soaked face from his huge plate of steaming chicken. ‘Go on then, taste it,’ he commanded the boy in a booming baritone, gesturing to his plate. Jaffar hesitantly raised a forkful to his lips and ate it. Within seconds he was clutching at his throat and gasping for breath: the dish was smothered in searingly hot chilli sauce. His tears of shock and pain were mirrored by those streaming down his father’s face: tears of mirth. Idi was convulsed with laughter. He had, Jaffar admits, an ‘unusual’ sense of humour.

Within a year of this meeting Amin had seized power from Obote in a coup and begun his brutal reign. By then Jaffar was being brought up on Nakasero Lodge, another official residence, by his father’s second wife, Kay. ‘In Africa it is normal to have this extended network of family and friends who you can send your children to,’ says Jaffar. ‘That was when family life really started for me. My father used to love being massaged by his kids so one of us would take each leg and arm and another would be on his back. ‘He was a playful and mischievous man and he was always Big Daddy to us. ‘He loved jesting. One of his favourite jokes was to run at people with a spear. They would be shocked to see this huge figure hurtling at them. Then he would throw the spear so it landed at their feet.

‘I hated it when people called him a buffoon. I thought of him as like Mohammad Ali he had that same sense of mischief. He was also a great fan of cartoons; he enjoyed slapstick. Tom and Jerry was his favourite.’

Amin was particular about his clothes, Jaffar reveals. ‘He had a butler to deal exclusively with his wardrobe. He had to have cravats, was obsessed by them.

‘I have no idea of the difference between Louis Vuitton, Hermes or Dior, but he could tell at a glance. ‘He had Church shoes flown in from Britain. He loved anything British, if it was well made.’This passion extended to his car collection which included Land Rovers, Range Rovers and Rolls-Royces. But it was not exclusively British. A Mercedes 300 coupe, a gift from Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi, was a particular favourite. Another plaything was an amphibious car. ‘He would take his wives or girlfriends out in it and head towards a lake,’ says Jaffar.

‘The girls would start screaming as they thought they were going to drown, but the car just floated. This tickled my father.’

Former President of Uganda Idi Amin seized power after a coup in January 1971 and was driven from Uganda by Tanzanian forces in 1979. Keystone/Getty Images

Jaffar was sent to the elite missionary schools to which his father had once been denied access. Idi had been born in about 1925 into a marginal ethnic tribe, the Kakwa, on the Sudan border. Because they were not considered Ugandan, the young Idi was denied formal education and Jaffar believes that resentment later fuelled many of his father’s actions. ‘He felt Uganda’s elitist system denied an equal chance for so many poor children,’ he says. ‘He would eventually dismantle that social set and put it back together again in the way he wanted.’

In 1937, Idi spent time working cutting sugar cane, an unpleasant and difficult job. ‘The people who worked there were effectively indentured labour and the people who owned the fields were Asians. ‘They did not treat the indigenous Africans well,’ says Jaffar. ‘This is why my father eventually expelled Asians who refused to take up Ugandan nationality. ‘He thought, “I’ve had enough of this”. He threw out more than 80,000.’ By 1975, Jaffar, now nine, was enjoying the perks of being the President’s son. ‘That year my father took us to Angola,’ he says. ‘It was a really nice day trip. My father was friends with a CIA agent who had new equipment from the US, including planes for our trips.

‘We had a shooting range at one of our houses and all of us children were taught how to shoot, and how to strip an AK-47. ‘My father liked us to compete against each other to see who could dismantle the weapon quickest. My record was nine seconds. ‘Dad was a great swimmer and he would tell us, “Whoever can hold his breath underwater for two minutes wins 100 shillings”. He said it would help us be good marksmen. ‘Basketball was another sport he loved. He would watch films of the Harlem Globetrotters and then organise games with his troops but, although basketball is a non-contact sport, whenever my dad played it ended up being more like a wrestling contest. Things got pretty rough.’

Amin’s resentment of the West stemmed from his unrequited love for Britain. He had served in the King’s African Rifles, a British colonial regiment, attaining the highest possible rank for a black African, effendi.

‘My father was a real Anglophile,’ says Jaffar. ‘He had a love-hate relationship with Britain. He wanted to be a loyal servant, despite his mannerisms. ‘Don’t forget that he took power with the help of the British. I am an example of what he wanted, because he dumped me in England for my education when we went into exile. ‘When he felt rejected by the British Government he focused on Scotland. A lot of the colonial and Army officers early in my father’s career were Scottish.

‘They were the backbone of the British Empire. My father even offered to help them win secession from the UK.’

As Uganda staggered from one bout of bloodletting to another, Amin would take his children out to the provinces in his Mercedes cars. Jaffar remembers his young brothers Moses and Mwanga being dressed in mini military uniforms on these trips, as he donned a safari suit. ‘My father was very shrewd. He would take with him his children from local mothers to show his loyalty to the area. He would say, ‘This is your child.’ But Amin’s regime was becoming increasingly paranoid, with Christian ethnic groups being purged from the army in favour of those largely Muslim tribal groups who shared Amin’s own background.

Even Jaffar was beginning to see the writing on the wall. ‘My father sent the people from his own tribe for specialist training abroad, but they would come back from Russia or the United States thinking they were better educated than my father and start getting ideas that they wanted to rule. ‘The superpowers started creating tensions between his trusted lieutenants.

‘My father stamped down on these coups because he had a very good intelligence service that had been set up by the US and USSR, and before that by the Israelis and the British.’ But the conflict was taking its toll and in 1978 Amin ordered the invasion of neighbouring Tanzania while trying to quell a mutiny. The decision would cost him his crown. ‘I was in the room when he took the call,’ Jaffar recalls.

‘He picked up the phone then slammed it down. He looked at me and said, ‘They have attacked me again. The Tanzanians. It is a big force this time.’

The Tanzanians, helped by Ugandan rebels, eventually toppled Amin in April 1979. As the end approached, Amin became increasingly mistrustful of his commanders. ‘A long convoy of fancy cars brought the high command up to a resort in Kampala for a meeting with my father,’ says Jaffar. ‘He took us up there with him and it was a very tense time. I realised something was wrong because there were hordes of soldiers around whom I did not recognise. ‘They were trying to convince him to stand down. He said, ‘How can you ask me to do this?’

Jaffar and his siblings were sent back to their missionary school outside Kampala, but the advancing Tanzanian forces cut them off. His father eventually despatched a rescue mission. ‘I was in my pyjamas when they came into the dormitory,’ recalls Jaffar. ‘I was not scared. I used to watch The Famous Five.

‘It was an adventure. When we got into the truck I was amazed by the amount of military equipment in there. ‘In the middle of the night we set off for the Rwandan border, but we broke down in the middle of this national park. We could hear the hyenas laughing in the pitch black.’ The following day the convoy made it back to Kampala. ‘We could hear the artillery shells in the distance getting closer. It was amazing and there was a sense of disbelief.

‘This huge convoy set out from Kampala to Entebbe airport. There I started to realise how many children my father had because he was having 80 seats installed in a plane for us all. ‘He was talking to Gaddafi on the phone, telling him, “My children are coming”. He wanted to stay on to make his last stand, even though he knew the war was lost.’ Instead, Amin fled to Libya where he spent the next 12 months. But he was restless. Jaffar says: ‘ We had come from absolute power to almost nothing. My father felt like the man who was once a corporate executive in New York but was now retired in Florida and had only the fishing to look forward to.

‘Although Gaddafi was most generous, my father eventually felt betrayed by his socialist agenda and felt he could not trust him. Instead he began to talk about going to Saudi Arabia.’ In 1972 Amin took up a Saudi offer of refuge. The Saudis feared his dreadful reputation was damaging the image of Islam and hoped that if he was based in their country they could guarantee his silence.

Jaffar went with his father and remembers the luxury well. ‘There was marble everywhere in our 15-room house,’ he says. ‘My father was paid by the Saudis. He had more than 30 of us kids with him and he would tell us, ‘You have to liberate Uganda with the fedayeen [Islamic soldiers]. All his children were given commando training.’ When not plotting coups, Amin indulged his other great passion: shopping. ‘He loved to shop,’ says Jaffar. ‘He would go down to Safeway – that was his favourite – and all the kids would grab a shopping trolley and pile them high with goods. The Lebanese security guards would stare at us in disbelief.’

Treating him under political asylum rules, the Riyadh government was paying him an undisclosed amount as a monthly stipend, while a number of his children worked in ordinary jobs. He was rarely interviewed by the Saudi press, but in an interview with Uganda’s Sunday Vision, Amin said he was at peace with himself and that his only passion was Islam. “I am leading a quiet life and committed to my religion, Islam, and Allah. I don’t have problems with anyone,” Mr Amin told the newspaper. Amin claimed that, “unlike some African heads of state”, he did not flee Uganda with state funds. “But I am satisfied with what I am getting and even paying school fees for a number of my orphaned relatives in Uganda, and helping needy people,” he said. His pastimes included reciting Quranic verses, swimming, fishing in the Red Sea, reading and watching television, particularly news programmes, he said.

Idi Amin Dada at Fruitmarket Jebel Arafat Makkah Al Mukaramah 1983.

The porcine Amin lived in luxury in Jeddah, having gotten away with mass murder. The difference between Saddam Hussein and Idi Amin is that Amin, a Muslim, was careful not to brutalize other Muslims. The only people, who were safe in Uganda, with a population of 12 million, were the country’s 800,000 Muslims and the Nubians from southern Sudan. The Muslims were Amin’s religious kinsmen, and the Nubians became his thugs and torturers. Sporting flowered shirts, bell-bottom trousers and sunglasses (even at night) the Nubians helped Amin eliminate about one in every 50 Ugandans.

Under ancient Muslim rules regarding hospitality and sanctuary, the Saudis felt obliged to give Amin asylum.

So a man who, in the 1970’s, had ordered the deaths of hundreds of thousands of his countrymen, raped and robbed his nation into endless misery and admitted to having eaten human flesh was whiling away his time as a guest of the Saudi government.

Amin in a spacious villa behind a white gate, and made his home with some of his children. Locals said he could often be seen pushing his cart along the frozen food section of the supermarket, being massaged at the health club, praying at the mosque. He had long ago abandoned his British-style military uniform for the white robe of the Saudi man, but as an African measuring 6-foot-3 and nearly 300 pounds, he did not exactly blend in. A former Sudanese colonel who worked as a manager at the local supermarket said, “People greet him and say, `Hello, Mr. President.’ “Why? Wasn’t he a savage dictator?

“Oh yes, he used to eat people,” the manager replied, laughing. “But this is our nature. We forget.”

During the nearly quarter-century of his soft exile, no nation tried to bring Amin to justice. Human Rights Watch did bring up Amin’s case to the United Nations Commission on Human Rights, but to no avail. Under international law, any nation, including Saudi Arabia, could have and should have prosecuted Mr. Amin. But, as Reed Brody when he was a special counsel for prosecutions at Human Rights Watch, said, “If you kill one person, you go to jail; if you kill 20, you go to an institution for the insane; if you kill 20,000, you get political asylum.”

Already a bear of a man, Amin allowed himself to become even fatter in exile. ‘It became an issue because our family suffers from arthritis,’ says Jaffar. ‘It put a lot of strain on his ankles and knees.’ ‘My father was fond of pizza and loved meat but his favourite was Kentucky Fried Chicken. In Jeddah, he loved us to go as a family to fast-food restaurants.’ Amin also spent a lot of time playing the accordion. ‘He played mainly Scottish military music as he was in a Highlanders band in the Fifties,’ says Jaffar. Exile afforded him the opportunity to take stock of his life, ‘but I do not believe he would express remorse or regret,’ says his son.

‘He would put it this way, ‘The people will appreciate what I was trying to do for the indigenous African. He was not defensive. He was simply saying, ‘God will be my judge.’

‘Absolute power destroyed his good intentions. He could make any decision because there was no one to advise him. That is where this nonsense about the Hitler of Africa stems from. ‘Uganda was elitist, and the elite left under my father’s rule because they did not feel safe. The peasants took over but were not trained enough to deal with the situation.’

Instead, the great and the good of Uganda were murdered with impunity – a fact that appears to escape Jaffar, who dismisses estimates that 500,000 people died under Amin’s regime. ‘These figures do not add up,’ he claims. ‘My father would say they were propaganda. No one has ever produced lists of all these people who are supposed to have died. Why?

‘My father felt he was serving his people but the elite felt he was taking away their privilege and they fought back. It was not a picnic. They wanted him out and chose a guerrilla insurgency to do it.’ The Amins paid a heavy price, says Jaffar. ‘Exile is hell. I have taken a culture on board that is more English than Ugandan. I cannot even speak my father’s tongue.’ Jaffar’s exile ended in 1990 when he returned to Uganda. Many of his siblings have chosen to live abroad, often shunning their father’s name.

An Italian journalist, Riccardo Orizio, asked Amin in 1999 whether he felt remorse. No, Amin replied, only nostalgia. Six years earlier, a British writer, Tom Stacey, saw him. At one point, Amin pulled from his pocket a paraphrase of Psalm 22 and commented: “Remember we are special to God. He sees a beauty in us few see.”

Bride Price in Africa: A Show of Wealth or Expression of Love?

The Cows are coming Home: African wedding customs still have value

Bride price practices in Africa – BBC News –

Biography: Idi Amin Dada, the Butcher of Uganda – ThoughtCo

Idi Amin – Military Leader, President (non-U.S.) –

Idi Amin – Wikipedia

Idi Amin led quiet life in S. Arabia – Newspaper – DAWN.COM

Idi Amin, Murderous and Erratic Ruler of Uganda in the 70’s, Dies in …

Idi Amin’s First Ladies – New Vision

The Life of Idi Amin – Idi Amin’s Regime of Uganda

Mad Ugandan dictator’s son reveals all about his ‘Big Daddy’ – Daily Mail


Sex, violence and history in the lives of Idi Amin: Postcolonial …

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