Shelton Mazowe series: Amin turns up at Shelton’s Kasisira

IN THE PICTURE ABOVE: Shelton (right) and members of his band on stage in the 1960s

In the early 1970s we set up a new place called Kasisira Bar and Restaurant. It was located on Crested Towers building, at the present home of Blue Africa. A few months after we opened up, we received a surprise visit from Idi Amin.
 
The president landed at the neighbouring Nile Hotel grounds in a helicopter. It was not his first time to “drop in” at the Nile Mansions, as he had renamed the place. It was one of his favourite hang-out.

However, this time he decided to pay us a surprise visit, by walking into the restaurant, which was just across the road. I started panicking.

Kasisira was one of the best restaurants in Kampala at the time, and since I was around the day Amin paid a similar visit to Jajja Villa Resort in Munyonyo, owned by Dr. Wamala, I was sure I was about to lose it, and probably my life too.

After a similar visit, Amin grabbed Jajja Villa from its owner - who he later murdered - and renamed it Cape Town View.

Hiding my fears behind a forced smile, I stood at the entrance to welcome the president, who seemed to be in a buoyant mood. It wasn’t my first time to meet Amin.

During the 1960s when still army commander, he used to storm Susana Club, where I was manager, to party the whole night; drinking and dancing with friends.

But this was going to be my first time to meet him as head of state.

He asked whether I was the manager. I answered; “Yes, Your Excellency.”

He said he had heard so much about my place, so he had decided to come and see it for himself. My heart skipped a beat, though I tried to put on a brave face.

He asked me to take him around, which I did confidently; thank God I had always made sure the restaurant was spotlessly clean.

He looked at the African decorations, and shook his head in a mixture of amusement and wonder. The impromptu tour over, Amin said he would like to sit down and have something to eat. “Oh my God, this is the day,” I quietly said to myself, as I got him a seat out on the terrace, where there was plenty of fresh air, and a nice view.

Fearing that a waiter might bungle up the president’s order, I decided to take it myself. He said he wanted black tea. I asked him if he would like to accompany it with nkoko nkulu (chicken gizzard). He smiled and nodded his head saying; “That is my favourite, give me that please.”

Amin And His Guests. He Wanted Kasisira To Entertain Guests During The 1975 Organisation Of African Unity Meeting In Kampala

He told me to also take the orders of his bodyguards; there were about 10 of them, seated with him at the table. One asked for tea and samosa, another soda and a cake, another coffee...

Still in a light mood, the president remarked that my face looked familiar.

I reminded him that before he became president, he used to dance to my music at Grand Imperial. “Shelton Band?” he asked.

“I’m Shelton,” I answered. Recalling how I used to sing English songs like a muzungu, he asked me whether I still sung. I said yes.

From then on, the conversation became cordial; the tension melted away.

As I went away to get their orders, Amin summoned me back. Suddenly he burst out laughing.

“Manager, these friends of mine gave you wrong orders,” he said, between bouts of laughter. “They think I don’t know. This one, give him beer. This one yes, soda. That one give waragi. The other one.. yes, tea ...,” and so on.

The bodyguards remained silent.

When I brought the orders as the president had asked, they all burst out laughing. Amin asked me to join them, and soon we had a small party underway.

The president wanted to know who had made the beautiful designs, which we had used to decorate the place. I told him it was my brothers and I. He then asked me whether I was a Muganda. I told him I was from South Africa.

“I’m going to fight those bazungu who are mistreating our brothers and sisters,” he said, adding; “If we can have six restaurants like this in Kampala, then we are in business.”

Everyone around agreed with him that indeed this was a beautiful place. With relief, I concluded he had not come to take over my place.

When he asked why we did not play music in the place, I told him it was because of him; sometimes he stayed at the nearby hotel, and the authorities feared the music would interrupt his rest.

“Music cannot disturb me, since I’m also a musician; I play the accordion, so you must get a license to operate a nightclub,” he said.

He then asked me if I was aware that Uganda was going to host the OAU conference. I wasn’t.

“You must make this place even more beautiful, I want the visitors staying in Nile Hotel to come here and dance, then afterwards walk back to the hotel,” he said, before demanding for his bill.

Fearing that he might accuse me of overcharging, I told him it was on the house.

Shelton And Band Members Entertaining Guests At Village Garden Bar In Mukono

He looked amused, but not convinced. “Your Excellency, you have really honoured me by coming to this place, so I will not charge you,” I lamely explained.

The president laughed saying; “Africans don’t know business; that is why their businesses are always going bankrupt.” All of a sudden he turned serious: “Me I want my bill.”

I went and prepared the bill, carefully reducing the prices, as these were the days of the economic war, and several businesses had already been closed, or re-allocated, for overcharging, or serving pork to Muslims.

When I presented the bill, the president rejected it, saying it was too small; either I feared charging him the right amount, or I was operating my business at a loss.

I went away and prepared another bill, putting the actual prices, which he paid.

Before he left, he gave me three reasons why he had insisted on paying.

Firstly, my business was too small for me to afford to give free drinks to 11 people. Secondly, as the president of Uganda, he couldn’t just go around eating free food. And lastly, if he did not pay, the people accompanying him (bodyguards) would make it a habit to go out to places and refuse to pay, even when they had the money.

I escorted him across the road up to Nile Hotel gate. Before we parted, he asked me to contact him if I had any problem, and he would help me, since I was providing a very crucial service to the country. He promised to visit again.

Another time, the national manager of Uganda Hotels, Fred Irumba, paid us a visit. He was accompanied by all the managers of government hotels.

He wanted them to see how we had set up Kasisira, so that they could do the same thing in their hotels. Later, our design company, Afro Décor, was given a contract to redesign the entire Uganda Hotels chain.

As a musician and hotelier, I had the privilege, over the years, to interact with several other Ugandan heads of state, though the meeting with Amin was the most dramatic.

I remember the day Kabaka Edward Mutesa, disguised as an ordinary person, visited Susana Bar, in Nakulabye. He arrived in a Volkswagen Beetle, wearing sun-glasses and a hat pulled low over his face.

Although the bar was full, none of the revellers recognised him. As management, we were of course aware of his presence, as we had been informed about his visit for security reasons.

Kabaka Mutesa II

There was also that other time, in the late 1950s when he stormed Black Cat, a White’s-only club, where we were performing. Whenever he had visitors, Mutesa would invite us to his palace, the Lubiri, to entertain them.

I remember one time he had a party - it could have been his birthday - and he invited us to entertain his guests. He ordered his people to serve us eats and drinks.

During a break, he came on stage and chatted with us. He wanted to know whether we had been well looked after.

As band leader, I thanked him for his hospitality, and I took the opportunity to introduce my colleagues, who included three Baganda; Eclas Kawalya, Tom Ndugga, and Peter Mayambala plus two Congolese. The Kabaka chatted with the Baganda musicians in Luganda before going away.

One of the Congolese, who was a bit tipsy, wondered why the Baganda respected the Kabaka so much, yet physically he was such a small man. He apparently expected a giant. The remark did not go down well with the Baganda musicians. As we drove home in our van, the Congolese kept on making insulting remarks about the Kabaka.

When we arrived back at the club, the Baganda musicians, joined by the driver, also a Muganda, pounced on the Congolese and started beating them up.

They kept on shouting; “Mwe baani okuvuma Kabaka waffe?” (Who are you to insult our Kabaka). It was a terrible fight; I had to call the Police to separate them.

For two days, the Congolese musicians had to keep away from the club while I pleaded with the Baganda musicians to forgive them, which they eventually did.

The Kabaka was such a generous man, he once offered us land to settle on, but we turned it down, saying we were here for only a short time, and would soon be going home to Zimbabwe.

Fifty years later, we are still here, regretting why we turned down the Kabaka's offer. We had similar offers from the Omugabe of Toro, and Prince Mawanda.

While I was working as an assistant manager at Colline Hotel Mukono in the late 1980s, President Yoweri Museveni paid us a surprise visit. He just walked in and asked me whether I was Augustine Kasozi, the proprietor. I told him I wasn’t.

Yoweri Museveni In The 1980s

He then asked for my name. When I told him I was Shelton Mazowe, he spent some time trying to recall where he had heard the name before. When I told him I was a Zimbabwean, he asked me how I had got a job in Mukono. I told him I had come to Uganda several years ago.

Still thinking hard, he wondered where he had heard the name Mazowe before.

I suggested that perhaps he had seen the Mazowe orange squash, a very popular soft drink in Zimbabwe. We chatted for a few minutes in my mother tongue, Shona, which he probably learnt in the 1970s, while training as a guerrilla fighter in Mozambique. He said he wanted to rest a bit. Actually, he looked quite tired.

I showed him to the presidential suite, where he stayed for about 30 minutes, while I waited around with his bodyguards. Later, I escorted him up to his car. 

Another time, I was at the home of Nakasero LC1 chairman, Aroga, when the First Lady, Janet Museveni, turned up to report her presence at the nearby State House.

The chairman’s home was a run-down house where local residents and soldiers from State House used to come to drink waragi, kasese, malwa, ajono, and beer. I was a frequent visitor there.

That day, at about 6:00pm, the First Lady walked in alone. We panicked when we saw her approaching. Some people, including several soldiers, run off, abandoning their drinks, while some of us remained glued to our seats. She asked for the chairman, and Aroga received her.

After introducing herself, she said she had come to report to the chairman, since she and her family had taken up residence in his area. We were shocked. She looked so humble. A trembling chairman took down her particulars. Before leaving, she told the chairman; “Now that we are neighbours, you should pay us a visit. Sunday evening is ideal, as my husband is usually around.”

She gave us some money, and cautioned us not to fight each other after getting drunk, but instead go quietly home.

When the chairman visited them, the first family wanted to know how they could help make his life better. He asked for cement and mabaati (iron sheets) to complete his house in the village, which they gave him.

First published in Sunday Vision, April 29, 2007. Vision Group Resource Centre