Kololo Hill by Neema Shah
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In Kololo Hill, Neema Shah has brilliantly explored the concept of home, what we mean when we talk about it, and what it takes to start over again. Her enthralling debut novel is based on a historical event which, although it took place well within living memory and had deep significance for the UK at the time, seems to have been almost forgotten, except by those directly affected. The author’s empathic writing style, supported by personal experience and detailed research, will raise awareness of the emotional trauma and economic disaster endured by many.
The story is set amidst the 1972 expulsion of the Ugandan Asians by brutal ruler Idi Amin, when recently married Asha and her family are forced to leave everything behind except the devastating secrets that threaten to tear them apart.
The main characters are convincing and relatable. When the story begins, they are living contentedly as an intergenerational family, keeping up the religious and social traditions inherited from previous generations. The elders among them have already been transplanted once, travelling from India many years before, in search of a better life. They found the place of their dreams on Kololo Hill, a desirable residential district located four thousand feet above Kampala, formerly occupied by British expats who returned home when Uganda declared independence.
A thriving Asian community has become established, with a firm social structure. The wealthier the family, the higher up the hill they can afford to buy property. Poorer Asian families live on the lower slopes. For generations, the Ugandan Asians have led comfortable lives, the men building up businesses and the women playing their part in a daily round of social calls, while Ugandan ‘houseboys’ take care of all the household tasks. Unfortunately, their prosperity arouses the envy of dictator Idi Amin, a cruel man who is suspected of eating the bodies of his murdered enemies.
Asha has only been married to Pran for a few months, but trust between them is already breaking down, because she is suspicious about how he funded improvements to the family’s business premises. Pran’s charming disabled brother Vijay is a little too fond of his sister-in-law, and their mother Jaya has recently been widowed by the death of their lovable but feckless father, Motichand. While these complex family dynamics are in full flow, Amin orders all Asians to leave Uganda within ninety days, taking only what they can carry and leaving behind their money and property.
Immediately, the entire household is thrown into unimaginable fear and distress. In particular, I felt great sympathy for Jaya. All her life, other people have decided where she must live. In each place chosen for her, she has created a home, sending out tendrils of love to those around her, by means of traditional food and comforting rituals. Now, at an advanced age and through no fault of her own, she must tear up her roots and leave not only the friends she has cultivated for years, but also December, their houseboy, who is at risk of being slaughtered, because Amin hates his tribe.
December is only one of many fascinating minor characters. For example, Mrs. Goswami, Jaya’s friend, tells amazing stories of her pioneer days on a farm in a remote part of Uganda. She is a brave but insensitive woman who treats her Ugandan maid with casual cruelty. When the girl learns her mistress will have to leave the country, her parting shot is, ‘Perhaps if you’d all spent a little more time worrying about other people before, they wouldn’t hate you so much that they want you gone.’
Subtly, Shah conveys the nature of the horrific treatment handed out to Asians by Amin’s soldiers. Women are at constant risk of being sexually assaulted, and men are brutally beaten. Asha’s family cannot even be confident of surviving the car journey to the airport. At numerous checkpoints along the way, soldiers are waiting to rob them of what little money they have left. Cash has to be hidden to ensure there is enough to pay off all of them.
When their plane lands in England, Asha, Jaya and Vijay enter a world about which they know everything, and nothing. A picture of Queen Elizabeth, in the army barracks where they are accommodated, is familiar from Uganda, but their lightweight clothes are not suitable for a freezing cold British winter. They are given second-hand coats to wear, and the food on offer is unfamiliar. Well-intentioned volunteers invite them to take part in something called Bingo, but in a crowded room where three languages are spoken, none of them English, calling the numbers is a challenge.
Throughout all of this, in spite of ignorant racism, Vijay’s problems with finding work, and the lack of support from secretive Pran, Asha manages to hold things together for herself and her family. Having been in her early twenties in 1972, Asha, who is so well described in the book that I think of her as a real person, must now be in her early seventies. I imagine her being professionally qualified, and an experienced social activist. Trained by Jaya in the complexities of Indian cuisine, she is also a wonderful cook, secure and happy at the heart of her extended family.
Perhaps one reason why the arrival of the Ugandan Asians in Britain has been forgotten, is that they have been fully assimilated into our diverse nation. However, it is vital to remember that historical events of this kind have far-reaching consequences, and remember the long-term effects of political decisions being made at the present time.