Aisha, Part 2. Pakistani American - Dahlias, Dupattas, and the Last Born

In this second part of our 4-part conversation, Aisha Sarwari shares vivid stories of her childhood in Uganda as the youngest in her family. She recalls her mother sewing dupattas for her and her sister, the blooming dahlias in their garden, and the deep love she felt for her father. Aisha reflects on her lifelong connection to nature, her gratitude for growing up surrounded by it, and what it meant to be a minority in Uganda in the shadow of historical events like the expulsion of Asians. Through her lens as part of the Pakistani diaspora in Africa, Aisha offers a personal glimpse into family bonds, cultural identity, and resilience.

Watch the video on YouTube: https://youtu.be/PUcwG6PPWHo

If you haven’t listened to Part 1, start there to catch the beginning of Aisha’s story.

Follow Aisha:

On Instagram @aishafsarwari and @heart_tantrums
On X @AishaFSarwari
On Youtube @aishasarwari2134 

Her memoir is called Heart Tantrums and Brain Tumours and can be ordered on from Hurst Publishers at https://www.hurstpublishers.com/profile/aisha-sarwari/ 

Transcript

Transcript generated by AI and may contain errors

Jess: [00:00:00] You are listening to Cultureful. I'm your host, Jess Lin. This is part two of my four-part conversation with Aisha Sarwari. In part one, we explored her family roots, her mother's side, moving from India to Kenya for business where her mother was born, and her father moving from Pakistan to Uganda to teach.

We talked about how the partition of India shaped both sides of her family, how her parents met, and the communities they came from. If you haven't heard it yet, I recommend starting there.

In this episode, Aisha shares her experience growing up in Uganda after Idi Amin's 1972 expulsion of Asians, which ordered the country's South Asian community to leave.

Her parents chose to stay and she was born there in 1981. She reflects on her childhood [00:01:00] and on navigating different cultures and communities in Uganda and during visits to Kenya.

As always, you can watch the video version on YouTube. I hope you enjoy. Welcome back the break. how you feeling? 

Aisha: Amazing.

I loved, I loved the duck tape as a metaphor.

My 

Jess: gonna use that in one of your articles or books? Yes.

Aisha: I have to tell you a funny story. So we were, uh, traveling in Pakistan International Airlines, which is the worst. So the overhead cabin kept opening and so I called the steward and it's like this keeps opening and we are about to take off. So she pulls out something from her pocket,

Jess: And it's duct tape.

Aisha: Yeah. And she just tapes it. You, she looks at me and she goes back,

Jess: She's like, you're welcome. I fixed it. I, I have the duct tape right here. This is proof. Um,

Aisha: everything. yes. Um, okay, so where we left off was, parents [00:02:00] got married in, in Kenya and then they go to Uganda where your dad was already living.

Mm-hmm. Kampala. Mm-hmm.

Jess: and what kind of life did they create together?

Aisha: For me as the Lost Born, I think all the bad stuff had already happened. You know, 

Jess: so, before that, what year did they get married and.

Aisha: sadly, I don't remember. I, all I know is that my eldest brother, he is his late fifties, so I'm thinking 60 years ago.

Jess: Okay. Somewhere mid 1960s.

Aisha: Mm-hmm.

Jess: basically your dad brings your mom back with him home. and end up having how many kids?

Aisha: They end up having four children that are alive and that stay alive.

Jess: so there were some other kids that 

Aisha: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

I'm the last point.

Two brothers, one sister. So my eldest brother, is a doctor. My second brother is an engineer, and my sister is a [00:03:00] teacher for autistic children.

Jess: Did your parents feel like it was, did, did your mom feel like it was a jackpot to have? an engineer and a doctor in the family. I dunno, I hear a lot that like South Asians really, really, really, really, really love doctors and engineers 

Aisha: mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. So my mom worked, like I said, I think that tradition from both my mom's side and my dad's side as migrants, that academic excellence part, um, they hit the jackpot with my, with my eldest brother and my second brother, my eldest brother is this serial award winner. Whatever he does, he has to be at the top of it and it

comes so effortless to him and he is so humble to make things worse, you know, he has like this, he's,

he's, he's, he is irritatingly perfect in the family being like, I wish he had like a character flaws so we could hate him a little.

But

he's such a nice guy, you know, while being this massive award winner. And, and I asked him, I was like, you know, oh, you probably have this best teacher award. On your wall. [00:04:00] He's like, no, I took them all off. I mean, he told me this like last month, and I'm like, why would you do that? He's like, because it wasn't, I didn't want to be determined or defined or individualized with the awards.

And I was like, oh, there

goes another award for humility, you know?

Jess: Seriously.

Aisha: Yeah. And he is really at the top of his stuff. He is an infectious diseases doctor. He's been the chairman of a really large university hospital. He's, he's, um. He's top dog, um, and also superbly humble and, um, and has, has great character and humility.

So it's, it is really like,

Jess: Annoyingly perfect. 

Aisha: annoyingly perfect.

All the kids in the family hate and were like, oh, they're gonna give him that example. But they're about three or four like him in the family, so.

Aisha: this is how they are. They work really hard. They're humble, but I don't think he, anyone's more humble than him.

 he's very, very down to earth and he's also an avid reader, so he has a lot of sense of philosophy and lived experience and that kind of thing. Yeah.

Jess: Hmm. Okay, so, so your parents what kind of life did they create [00:05:00] for themselves?

Aisha: So, like I said, because I was the last one, all the bad stuff had already happened. So I was born into this cute little cottage in Uganda, in Kampala, uh, in a high school where my dad taught he would come back home from work at about two. Um, you know, to walk through a garden that my mom made my mom again, whatever she touches blooms, she's great at gardening. So even in Uganda where no one needs to plant these beautiful dahlias, she would, you know, there would be every color on the color wheel around this cottage. Uh, of course we were very. I wouldn't say poor, but we were very, you know, it was a humble, um, environment. And so, you know, old tins of oil were used as flower pots.

And you would, she, she was always in the earth, so very grounded woman, again, would wash her own clothes. Um, there's somewhere in the book where I've talked about how I've always, all my life seen her bring her, you know, duct taped, um, [00:06:00] glasses from her, the bridge of her nose to the top all the time because it kept, always kept falling when she was washing dishes or, you know, putting the clothes on the clothes line.

So, oh yeah, my dad would walk through that beautiful garden, come home. And get treated like a king, you know, like, um, given food, put to bed

by, With with, an audio podcast, the original audio podcast,

you know, 

Jess: Ahuh live private audio podcast.

Aisha: And then also, like, you can't turn it off against his will. Like, so she'd be like, you're snoring. Why are you making me keep reading? And he's like, no, I'm, I'm listening.

And then she would quiz and then she'd quiz him. She's like, oh, what, what happened with this character? And fantastically he would just repeat exactly what happened.

So she would

get surprised and be like, okay, I guess I'll keep reading.

Jess: Oh my gosh. 

Aisha: They had a, again, they, you know, after I think 35 years of living in Uganda, I caught the tail end of all the bad stuff being worked out, the,

the [00:07:00] war, the, you know, the, you know, whatever interpersonal challenges they had. And of course they had interpersonal challenges because he was, he was a man of a lot of, um, temperamental challenges.

You know, he'd seen a war, um, and he'd migrated. So he was rough around the edges. As most men of his generation were. So by the time I was born, he was just the perfect dad. grading papers all day, all night, reading. you know, the president of the Pakistan Society in Uganda, um, you know, made me recite a lot of long poems, loved me to death, was very gentle.

Everywhere he went, I got to go. On his motorbike, you know, gotta sit in the front and ride. It was, it was a, it was, I guess the reason I hark back to his days is because I think that was the only time I experienced patriarchy working for a woman, you know?

Jess: Uh,

Aisha: Yeah. With your dad protecting you. 

Jess: Uhhuh. Okay. 

The protection. 

Aisha: patriarchy works when the men actually are responsible, are family oriented, [00:08:00] are capable, are resourceful, and are alive. 

So. I got that. I got the, the nice part of, of patriarchy.

Jess: When you were growing up, when you were a little kid, ,

So how much was, religion in the family you were 

growing up? 

Aisha: my mom didn't need to do what the Konkani Muslims did. There was not that kind of. You know, fear oriented religion. I think when she married my dad, my dad was, uh, what you would call in a simple way, a very progressive liberal Muslim. He really didn't care too much about ritual. He actually thought that the whole point of ritual was futile. Uh, what mattered is how you conducted yourself in your day to day, how you contributed to society, to community. And it kind of, I think, freed my mom a lot from the good girl phenomena. And I don't think she passed it on to me and my sister. So we were, we were really free to be whoever we wanted within, you know?

Like it wasn't like, oh, this is, you are a good girl now you're a bad girl. Now, that only happened in Kenya[00:09:00] 

Jess: For her when she was growing up.

Aisha: and for us as well, when we would visit.

But back home we didn't have to do any of it, frankly. Yeah. So we were duplicitous in that way because when we'd go back to her family, we'd have to pretend.

Jess: Mm-hmm.

Aisha: You know, and also she didn't have time to do all this stuff. Like she was literally washing, cleaning, scrubbing, raising kids all, all the time. Like, you want her to now be the, the imam. You know? She just, she would just like, just be good and she herself would. Practice. Uh, she was a very, very practicing Muslim, so she would pray, she would, you know, and she'd be kind and so that kind of thing.

So we just saw that part of, and we were like, yeah, we don't need to do much else, but, and, and fast. And of course, those, those basic tenants were, were always there, but never shoved down. Or if we wanted to do it, we would do it, you know? So I would be a kid and I would pray with her if I wanted to, but if I didn't, I would just jump on her back, you know,

Jess: And play. 'cause you're a kid, right? 

Aisha: Yeah, yeah. [00:10:00] Yeah.

So it was, it was, it wasn't this, oh, it's so sacred. You can't, you know, let kids mess with it. It wasn't, like I said, fear oriented. It was love oriented,

Jess: Mm. 

would you consider your dad at that time, was he, culturally Muslim, but not necessarily religiously Muslim, 

Aisha: Correct. 

culturally.

Muslim, I think after he got sick and was diagnosed with cancer, then he did like all old men, uh, you know, facing mortality would, would get a bit more emotional about, you know, the life of the prophet and, you know, the cultural part. But he was never for example, when he'd go to Kenya and they would make him lead prayers for his in-laws he wore, he read the shortest prayers, made multiple mistakes, and wrapped everything up really quickly.

Jess: Because he didn't wanna like expose himself too much for not being 

Aisha: Yeah, no, and he had a lot of confidence, so he was just like, I know what I'm doing, because he was well read, so he knew, you know, the religious contexts of things in a much more intellectual way as well. So he didn't think that this was very [00:11:00] necessary. But, um, yeah, he was, the joke is that he would read the shortest chapters

during prayer and, and omit some, and then be done with it and be like, okay, where's the food?

Jess: Uh, okay. And, and in terms of like gender roles, um, in the household that your parents created, it sounds like they definitely had gender roles where, you know, your dad was working and then your mom was doing like the household, taking care of the kids, um, but also that some of these gender role expectations for her kids, how she was raising.

Your brothers, and you and your sister seemed very different from what she grew up with, so can you talk a little bit more about like what do you think were any gender expectations for you and your siblings?

Aisha: Maybe

because I didn't hit puberty. While we were in Uganda, I didn't feel anything that she put down my sister or me. So, you know, we as South Asians, we have this thing called dupatta, [00:12:00] which is, you know, we don't take the hijab, but what we do is we do have a scarf that you do want to wrap yourself around, you know, just from, um. Just, just a bit of a, you know, let's say formal decency kind of thing. And it's part of the culture. Usually our dupatta or our scarves are extremely beautiful, so you do wanna wear them. So that she would insist on for me and my sister when we were growing up. But other than that, it was like, you know, she, she stitched her own clothes, so she stitched our clothes, so we never went to buy anything. We always wore what she stitched on her singer machine. So she was extremely versatile and creative and actually really. Beautiful clothes now that I look back at it, you know, very lacy, very beautiful buttons. Um, yeah, so like I said, whatever she touched was beautiful, so she'd make us these clothes and the dupattas were part of it.

But besides that, it wasn't this, oh, you don't look decent or you, you do, you know, like there was no slut shamey part of it. However, she transformed completely when she went back to her [00:13:00] family of origin. And, you know, the slut shaming part was. Very, very obvious that she didn't know what to do with it because she was living in two worlds.

So she had to show her family that she was a strict mom, and so she kind of, I, and I don't blame her for this now, but she would admonish us for not being good enough girls. 

Jess: In front of

her side. Would she explain it later? Like, oh, I'm just doing this. So then they.

Aisha: She would, she would, she would say, look, I know Ma, you're my children. You'll understand, but. Children don't understand. They think it's their fault and they

think, you know, so I get it now, many years later after studying feminism and studying how women have internalized misogyny and how that's a, a survival skill. But I did not like her for doing that. And I think, um, it just created a lot of, uh, confusion because then I, I just ended up liking my dad more because he would not be hypocritical, you know,[00:14:00] 

Jess: he wouldn't 

Aisha: Code switch. 

Jess: Yeah.

he wasn't changing his parenting style

wherever he was with you,

Aisha: But he was a man, so he 

could, you know, women, women can get away with being who they are. My mom couldn't say, this is how I've raised my children. I wanted to raise

them this way and this is how I want it. You know, this balance between the world and, you know, what we call dean, like religion and, and real life. She couldn't stand up for that and say it. She was ashamed of how we were turning out. In Kenya, but then in Uganda we were like, we are fine. We had to go back to being ourselves. 

Jess: Let's take a short break.

Jess: okay, I wanna ask about, I know this is before you were born. in 1971 when [00:15:00] Idi Amin came to power in Uganda

and the expulsion of Asians happened, and basically it was targeting this. South Asian minority, um, and ordering the South Asian minority in Uganda to leave within 90 days.

 It was actually 1972 when Ugandan dictator Idi Amin ordered about 60,000 people of South Asian descent,

including many Ugandan citizens to leave the country this uprooted families and businesses forcing people to start over in places like the uk, Canada, India, and the us. Many had little warning and faced the huge challenge of rebuilding their lives from scratch in unfamiliar places.

For Uganda. Losing this key business community caused shortages, rising prices, and job losses, while [00:16:00] also deepening ethnic mistrust and tearing apart the country's diverse communities. well, I know you were born in Uganda, so your parents chose not to leave, so they were there during that whole period. Um, yeah. Tell me about that. What happened? What do you know?

Aisha: So my dad, somehow, now I can guess it's because of the fear of migration, wanted to stay put he also felt that it's not such a big deal. Wars come and go. If you stay put, you have a better chance of survival. So

I think he put his family at risk inadvertently because he just over emphasized safety of staying versus safety of fleeing, because he had fled before and it didn't turn out well. So I think he was trying out something new. It was a really bad idea because my family, and I mean for those of you who don't know it, and you can watch this movie called The Last King of King of Scotland, in which [00:17:00] they explain his, um, psychosis and how he was an extremely terrible tyrant and dictator. You know, what he did to his wife was unbelievably brutal. So he started off being the friends of. The merchant class, the Indians and the Pakistanis and the brown people, or the South Asians as you would call it, or the Asians, that he would just call, classify them as Asians. And then he started saying, oh, you know what, Africa is for Africans.

What the hell are you guys doing here when the economy went bad? So he said, okay, that's our wealth that you made on our backs, and you guys are racist. Which. I must add some Asians were, they were really terrible to, to Africans, um, and Ugandans. And he, they would, they would treat them, uh, disrespectfully.

So he. Tapped into that sense of deprivation that Africans had, that these people have come into our country. They're not even from here. They're rich. They, you know, hire us as servants. They don't let us eat in the same [00:18:00] utensils, so like they were done. So he really resonated with that class. And because there was a lot of militia class, there was, um, decree to shoot anyone who's in Asian at sight. So he not only, uh, made political sense, he also provided military power to anyone to exercise anything. So my family really did see a lot of carnage, uh, a lot of loss, um, and a lot of fear. And my mom, I don't know if she went along with my dad's decision, but obviously she had to. So my dad refused to move, but my dad also felt like, look, I'm a teacher. I'm not rich. I have given my entire life to this community as a teacher. So why would I be targeted? Plus, I'm in a high school campus and people will protect me. So I think he was right on that count that he didn't do anything wrong. He should not be the one targeted, but he also forgot how much things change when there's a riot and when there's military power. So yes, there have been multiple [00:19:00] incidents. One actually happened when I was very young. Because even though I Diamine left, uh, Obote came in, uh, there was a very similar sentiment. You know, when you, it's kind of like the Afghan war in Pakistan. Like you start telling people that so-and-so is an enemy and then the war ends and you're like, okay, don't, don't mind what we said, just go on being friends.

And it doesn't work that way. It takes a few generations to get that person to stop being an enemy. So similarly, the militia, um, you know, this was you a Yoweri Museveni, who's by the way, still in power. Can you believe it? I'm 43 right now, and he's been in power since, since, I was there. The guy's just not leaving. 

Jess: Idi Amin was overthrown in 1979 by Tanzanian forces and Ugandan exiles. After several years of unstable governments, Yoweri Musevini became president in 1986 following a gorilla war. He has remained in power ever since. 

Aisha: So it was his [00:20:00] rebellion that, you know, started fighting with Yobo, uh, regime and they would just enter Asian's houses and shoot them. my dad decided to stay. And there was this incident where, militia men often, like just teenagers with big guns, they can't even hold. Asked my mom to open the door. We lived in this perennial fear of the knock. So if there was a knock you had to open, you just had to, okay. Because it would get worse if you didn't. So she opened, I was sleeping in another room. I was, I think maybe three. Somewhere around there. And they came into the room and of course I was afraid that the, and we call them the army men, that the army men would come in. So when they came in, I ended up being blocked between a corridor where I came out of my room with my blankie, which I called Kiki. And my mom was on the other side of the army men. And so I was walking towards her, but then I froze in my tracks 'cause they were there with the guns. And I started apparently screaming really [00:21:00] hard. I was petrified and my mom, you know, calmly told them that, you know, the child's afraid we are giving you everything you want. Can you let her come to me? 'cause she's, you know, very petrified. Just let her come to me. And I think they were teenagers with big guns and they also got a bit scared. 'cause apparently I was screaming really loudly and continuously. So they dug in and said, no, she's not gonna go to you.

Then that made me frightened and that made my mom more scared. And she then started yelling at them to listen to her and bring the child to her. She's like, look, do whatever you want. Let the child come here. Like, why are you just standing there blocking her? And I think in that confusion, my mom, at some point, he really yelled at them, And then they just kind of clocked their gun and instead of shooting at her, the shot at her foot. Maybe there was like something that they didn't know how to shoot. Well, instead of shooting at her foot, it went and the bullets went right next to her foot.

And there was this, we had a cement house. So [00:22:00] those, cement schrapnels were everywhere. And I remember this like deathly silence. Of course I stopped crying, you know?

Jess: Mm-hmm. 

Aisha: Um, my brothers were outside helping this other woman whose car was stuck with a kid, so. When they heard the gunshots, they had their own neighborhood watch that they collected to overpower these guys. I know this sounds like very whatever, but it was just how you lived back then. You had to be prepared and my dad had money that he had kept for days like these, so he then gave it to them. And said, you wanna take anything, take anything. My uncle from Kenya was on the phone, from what I understand, because he was listening to he, he was like, stay on the phone. So they yanked the phone, they turned some tables around, they took the money

on their way out. I think my brothers and their neighborhood watch overpowered these guys, and they manage to contain the situation, but if something like this happens to you when you're afraid it's gonna happen to you for so many [00:23:00] years. It just, it leaves something in you that you either don't want to ever talk about or you want to be defined by it, 

Jess: Which way did it go? For your parents 

Aisha: um, my, my mom, because she's a, she's, she believes in the power of stories. She's the one that told me these stories. Of course, I didn't have much of

a memory of it except for the terror. Um. I haven't heard my dad talk about it again. Of course he, he passed on when I was also very little. But I don't understand why anyone would stay in a place that is such direct danger to your skin color or to who you are and then think, nah, it'll be okay. You know,

Jess: Mm-hmm.

Aisha: to have that much wishful thinking again, is such a fear-based, trauma-based response.

Jess: I wonder, you know, like for your dad, because he had already gone through something so gut [00:24:00] wrenchingly difficult and dangerous. Maybe he was just like, well, but maybe some this different approach, yeah, in hindsight's 2020, but like at that point he was just like, well, what could be worse?

But

Aisha: Yeah. 

Jess: this staying could be worse.

Aisha: Staying could be

worse. Yeah.

And you don't know until you go through it, but

also like it's hard to leave home. Right?

I mean, I can imagine he walks through. Those dahlias that my mom planted and the roses that my mom planted over years and years and years where he's, all his kids have grown up and become educated, and now what is he supposed to pick up?

Everything and leave. So our house was the place where all the Pakistanis and Indians left their important stuff in. So we were like a garage for them because

everybody left on a plane when they were asked to, and they were like, okay, Mr. Sarwari is not leaving, so let's leave our stuff there, hoping that they would come back someday.

You know? Of course that never happened, but I remember that he was the fort for a lot of the community to be like, okay, you know what? He's brought us together. [00:25:00] He'll bring us together again. We'll, we'll go for a bit. We'll come back.

Jess: Hmm.

Aisha: But the

instability lasted for a very long time.

Jess: And that high school community. Did they protect him the way he thought they would?

Aisha: I don't think there's anyone left with power. These are teachers. You know, that's the thing with the banality of evil, right?

Everyone sort of, it's all banal. It's like everyone's like doing normal human stuff. They don't have the power to go take up arms, you know, or say, no, this is wrong, or this is right. They're just living. Um, and that's how silence is also an act of war in so many ways. That not doing anything can be a problem. So these were just very peaceful people, you know? And that's unfortunately what happens to non fighting tribes is that they just get swiped up. But nobody like those, those, [00:26:00] um, militia boys were from the community.

Of course, as sad as that is, yeah.

Jess: it sounds like that the neighbors and the colleagues like. Weren't turning your family in, but also maybe didn't have, like they weren't necessarily like taking up arms to protect you or

that kind of thing because of their own fear for their safety. 

Aisha: Yeah. 

Jess: At that time, were all of you Ugandan citizens?

Aisha: So my dad had a Pakistani passport, which he retained, and he was an expat. Um, my mom had a Kenyan passport, so we were always Pakistani because of our dad's passport, so we always had a Pakistani passport. It's been very, very, um, precious to me simply because it's sort of like my. Connection to my dad. So, uh, there was an opportunity after he passed when I was living with my mom's side of the family in Kenya, where they were like, listen, Pakistani passports are the worst in the world.

Which they are. They really are. Nobody [00:27:00] gives them visas. It's considered to be actually the worst passport in the world, maybe next to Afghanistan. 

Jess: Citizens from Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and Pakistan face some of the strictest international travel restrictions with passports that allow Visa free access to fewer than 40 countries. In contrast, citizens from countries like Japan, Singapore, Germany, and South Korea can travel visa free to over 190 countries. 

Aisha: And, um, I said, no, I wanna keep it. I wanna keep my box signing passport for as long as possible. So, yeah, we were Pakistani passport holders, but Ugandan in every sense of the world.

'cause you know, my mom and dad made Uganda their home.

So it was like their own little world and they had such lovely friends. they had such lovely traditions. It was almost like a little bit of an India and Pakistan and a Bangladesh there. And what was beautiful about Uganda was. [00:28:00] Later on, my dad became a professor at the Islamic University in Uganda, in a very rural area called Mbale, and it really blurred out the boundaries of nationality.

So if you were from the area, if you were Sri Lankan or Bangladeshi or Indian or whatever, being in Uganda in a remote place made you just club together. So you were preserving then the identity of a region. Rather than a nation,

you know? So it just grew. And so all their friends were from different places in the world or different parts in the world, but they work a bit closer to the Asian community, which is interesting.

You know, I mean, think about the Indian Muslims holding onto their very, very own tight corners, and then in times of war, you just expand those corners a little more.

Jess: but they also had friends that were 

Ugandan. 

Aisha: yeah, of course. Yeah, because they interacted in those circles and their fellow teachers was, so there were very few Asian just to, to

create that. We are looking [00:29:00] at. 2% population. 

Jess: Especially after 71.

Aisha: Mm-hmm. 

Jess: What were some of your earliest memories besides that? I know like the memory of the guys coming in, you know, when you were with your blanket, that was something that you were told after. Right? Um, what were some of your own earliest memories that you think you actually like?

You can remember.

Aisha: we were, I was not considered to be very pretty in Uganda because, you know, when an Asian goes into Uganda and specifically a rural town. My classmates were, you know, the school that I went to was very impoverished and I was the only Asian. There was one Asian boy with me who was my best friend.

His name is Toto. But like you had like 200 people in a class, or a hundred people in a class, often, you know, studying under a tree, and you were the only brown person there. So you were like. [00:30:00] Really a freak. They would come touch my hair and I'd be like, oh my God. Ugh. Like, look at her hair. It's straight, you know, or, um, you know, and not springy.

And what can we do to make her better or prettier and look at her nose. And she's,

she's got such a long nose and it's not flat. And how ugly is that?

Um. 

Jess: with like friends, like your friends would 

Aisha: Yeah. Yeah. I mean there was, I don't know about friendship 'cause I think it was a very long journey to friendship. I did have

a friend, her name was Diana, and she was kind to me, but I don't think it was friendship.

She was just kind to me. So that's what happened in majority groups, right? I mean, um, we have this very Eurocentric version of how, what Pretty is, but they abhorred my color. They said they were so sad for me for being light skinned.

Jess: Hmm.

Aisha: They were so sad for me for having the nose that I did. So I used to go to sleep taping my nose with a gauze 

to make it flatter. you 

Jess: because you were trying to reach the. Ugandan standard of beauty, which 

was a [00:31:00] flatter nose.

Aisha: Yes, yes. 

Um, 

Jess: Wow.

Aisha: liked Ma Tan more. Um, I also felt very ashamed of having. Because even though we were poor for rural Uganda, we were not. So I would go to school, take off my shoes, wear my slippers. 'cause everyone came to, came to school in slippers.

it was hard for me to fit in, Kampala to ballet because, I lost the friends that I had in the community that were Asian.

So,

Jess: How old were you when you moved?

Aisha: I think about eight, Okay. 

Yeah. So you had more Asians around you in Kampala and 

Jess: more friends, 

Aisha: And Bali was because it was rural, it was very isolated. You couldn't really, and remember, this is not an internet era or something. You can see the rest of the world. And I was the newest thing that had come in. From another world, you know?

And 

Jess: Very exotic.

Aisha: yeah. And I remember one of the earliest memories you asked, so I was singing a Ugandan song in a Ugandan way, you know,

that kind of thing with the drums for [00:32:00] parents, teachers meeting. And then I realized that I'm being laughed at. You know that they're like, oh, check her out. You know, she thinks

she's Ugandan, right? 

Um, kids can be mean,

but it's also now in re retrospect, really funny. I can see myself from their eyes trying to be Ugandan because I was right.

Jess: Yeah, 

Aisha: else am I?

Jess: because you would always, you grew up, you were born there, you grew up there, 

you went to school 

Aisha: Mm-hmm. 

Jess: like always. 

Aisha: know the language.

Jess: Yeah, you, because you grew up going to school in Lugandan, right?

Aisha: No, it was English. Uh,

that's the thing with Africa is like English is everywhere. Uh, Luganda is a second language for, of course, for people like us, first for them, but everybody knows English and everybody knows really good English. Maybe

with a, with, with a bit of a challenge, with punctuation, grammar. But they know their literature, they read well. 

Jess: In Uganda, English is the official language in government, schools and business, especially in urban centers like [00:33:00] Kampala. While rural communities more often use local languages and cultural and daily life

across other former British colonies in Africa, such as Kenya, Nigeria, Tanzania, and South Africa. English, likewise, serves as the common language for formal settings. With local languages remaining more common at home and within communities. 

Aisha: Uh, these places are extremely. Progressive. Uh, and I say progressive because you can tell, tell how progressive a place is based on how they respect their teachers. So we could never shake the hand of our teacher without kneeling down, you know? So a teacher was everything. had to respect them. obviously talking about my own experience in terms of the downside of being in Uganda for me at that time was the normalization of corporal punishment. a lot of corporal punishment and very normalized corporal punishment. Like they would just

 Um, Spared the rod, spoil the child thing. It [00:34:00] was also very culturally appropriate to do that. um, disciplining children with a cane was ideal. It wasn't something you did, sometimes it was something you did to make the child better. So the, the only reason I say the downside is because. corporal punishment is difficult for a child

no matter what, you know, no matter what.

And, and I'm pretty sure that Ugandan culture now has rebelled against it and it's not okay anymore.

And I also feel like there's a colonial reason for that happening. You know, because you, you have an oppressive ruler, they control the native populations through violence, so then it just gets passed on.

So obviously there are many reasons for that, but. Getting into a class, if a teacher had a bad mood, they would just tell you to lie down on the grass field. And before that, they would send a committee of kids to go select a cane. And actually, Trevor Noah talks about this quite a lot. It's not just East Africa, it's also in South Africa. Where [00:35:00] you would go to select the cane with which you would get beat up. And so the committee that got to select the cane from the bushes, you know, had like to decide do you want the flexible whip or do you want the hard bamboo?

 you know, there was, the committee would argue for hours being like, no, this hurts more, this cuts more, no, this is more

painful for the bones or whatever. Yeah. Yeah. Because it was so normal. Um, I got to be on a committee once and uh, I went for the whip. ' cause the bamboo was actually very painful. You with the whip thingy. Um, the audio of it was really terrible, but you would just get a basic cut and it wouldn't hurt anything around it. So anyway, we'd all lie down. And then there was also a debate of in corporal punishment of which was worse psychologically, do you get to be on the first part of the line they would always 

Jess: Uh, 

Aisha: butt, 

Jess: is the teacher gonna be most enthusiastic in the beginning or at the end?

Aisha: At the end. Yeah. And also like 

Jess: at the end?

Aisha: precisely, thanks [00:36:00] for bringing that out. So the, so the consensus was that they would be tired at the end. However, anticipation anxiety is such a

terrible thing. So by the time that they came to you and they were tired, it wasn't a guarantee that they would be tired, but it was also like, um, you would be done. Because you would've heard everyone

scream and cry and try

and run and try and there was always this one child that was like, it stops with me. You are not gonna hit me today. You know, and they would like, fight

the teacher.

or hold the cane. Yeah. Stand up to the teacher

and you're just down on the ground being like, oh,

I have 24 more to go and this guy's creating a ruckus.

You know, like, just be done with it. Just be done with it.

Um, but we were in it together. So it was, it would unfortunately create the sense of community.

Jess: Shared 

Aisha: And trauma bonding.

Yeah, 

Jess: trauma bonding. Yeah.

Aisha: and there was this guy, Damascus, who was a repeat. Uh, kid, like he was the tallest in our class. He was probably quite a hundred years old.

He just never [00:37:00] graduated from that class. And he was the biggest and the strongest. And he was so done with the beatings. So he would just always stand up to the teacher being like, why are you doing this? I've done this years and years. I'm like, just leave it, not me. Move on. And the teacher would be like, no, you're part of the class.

You get it as well. And he would fight. Then if you were in the middle somewhere, Damascus would always mess it up. For the rest of us. So you had to kind of not be anywhere after him, right?

Jess: okay. This is one of your early of very vivid. 

This is so 

vivid. 

Aisha: unforgettable.

Jess: Yeah. 

and you said friendship took some time. like what's your earliest memory of like a solid friendship?

Aisha: So Diana would, uh. Be this really smart girl in my class. And obviously there was a bit of a charm to have your token Asian friend as well. So I think that's where she picked me.

You know, she was like, yeah, fine. Come along, you know? And she was very determined [00:38:00] and very strong headed and very beautiful. And I think that she was also looked down on, because she was brown skinned and in Uganda you didn't like brown skin because it felt like you had mixed race origins.

Jess: Oh.

Aisha: Because you had collaborated with the white people or something had

happened in your past where you had that blood. And so I think she probably felt pitiful towards me because she was also, I think the word for it was, uh, like the slur for it was bugoya, which meant that you looked like a banana, which is a, um, a less black color, right. So mixed or half cost. So she was already sort of in the. The edges of society's approval. So I think that's why she felt, you know, a kinship towards me. And she would take me home and we'd have porridge at her house and we make lemonade at her house. So there was that sense of belonging. But then her mom would always make us wash the dishes or do the chores as well [00:39:00] to be like, oh, you've had my lemonade, you better pay up.

Right? So it felt like a bit, uh, of a community and I think I really wanted her to be my friend when I was younger. Early friendships, there's always a, a power dynamic. So she was a bit of a bully if I didn't do what she said it was a problem, 

you know, and I was a, 

Jess: you.

Aisha: yeah, yeah. Um, so for example, she'd say, you know, take my homework notes, you know,

do them this way.

And then she'd also be like, okay, this is my handwriting. You learn it. So that the teachers

can't tell. So I went through like a course of penmanship trying to understand

Jess: Oh my gosh. But you were, you were willing to do it because you're like, well, she's my friend. 

Aisha: Yeah. 

Jess: was,

Aisha: I think she was, I was part of her posse. Uh,

one thing I knew was that she was ant my friend friend, but she was part of my posse. What's really strange is when my sister got married in Mbale [00:40:00] in a small hotel there. Diana was my only friend. So I invited her to come to this, reception. My cousins made fun of her for being my friend, for being black, being like, oh my God, check out Aisha's friend. And that was such a weird moment for me because I was like, back in school, I am the person who's laughed at. Right? And the moment you bring this one person into my community, you know, she's, she's the freak.

Jess: Like the othering happened the other way, and you're like, oh my gosh, I've never seen this before. 

Because you 

were so used to being the one that was the other.

Aisha: mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Jess: Wow.

Aisha: Diana, right now from what I understand, is a major like minister, which doesn't surprise me.

There are two ministers from my class, by the way. One of them

is spokesperson of Yoweri Museveni, and the other person is Diana. So these were extraordinarily. kids, God knows how they, how they made it from a school like that, you know?

But that's what [00:41:00] I'm saying, the, you can't really stereotype any of these places 'cause they have brilliance embedded within the cultures that we might look down on.

Jess: We should just not look down on them. 

Aisha: We should just not look down on them. Yeah.

Agreed.

Jess: I. last question for, this part of your life.

So little Aisha and. Uganda in the capitol in this, you know, rural area after that.

what was little Aisha's like identity at that time? Was it Asian, Ugandan, like Pakistani, Ugandan? Like how did you think of your identity you were a kid?

Aisha: I don't think I thought about it.

I think it was just so easy for me to flow between different places. Uh, not withstanding these weird moments where I got laughed at because I didn't belong. Outside of that, I did the whole song and dance and drums and immersive [00:42:00] experiences in all cultures. So back in Uganda, I was very Pakistani because that's what the speech is.

And the commemorations were all about very Muslim in rural Uganda I was. Uh, very immersed in rural Uganda, like, you know, stories about witch doctors and, um, you know, Africa is a very rich tradition of ancestor stories, so lots of storytelling around that. Lots of great music. Um, we also, I also grew up in a very green area, so Mbale was very, very fertile. if at night my mom would throw something that has water from the kitchen, some residue, the next day there would be something sprouting out of it. The, the soil was black in color.

It was loam soil. It was volcanic soil. It was the best. So I grew up in a place where there had so many waterfalls and so many mountains, and you just wonder because it was a small community, you know, the kids would just. Come for dinner and that's it. You didn't know where they [00:43:00] were on the weekends and they just went to school and they came back, you know?

So I had a very open spirited communion with nature, with friends, with community that, you know, let's go do this. Oh, how about we go see the waterfall today? That's a four hour walk. Don't need to tell anyone where you are. Um, in Uganda there was these things called boda boda, which is border to border.

There were these. Bicycle men, they would just put you in the back of the bicycle and you'd ride from place A to place B. Um, very free, very uh, like childhood should be. My kids conversely are like on a device all the time, you know? And I feel like I really lucked out for being in a place that was safe enough for children to just do whatever they wanted and come back home by dinner. 

Yeah. 

Jess: Thanks so much for listening and I hope you enjoyed this episode. [00:44:00] Part Three Drops in two Tuesdays.

Be sure to subscribe or follow and turn on notifications so you don't miss it.

In part three, we hear about Aisha losing her dad and then moving to Kenya with her mom. She takes us on her journey through adolescence and young adulthood, meeting her husband and her search of home.

You'll find links to connect with Aisha and her work in the description. If you liked this episode, share it with a friend. Word of mouth really helps us grow.

You can also support this independent podcast and help keep these stories of representation coming by donating at the link in the description. This episode was produced and edited by me with advising and executive production support from Ruben Gnanaruban. I'm Jess Lin. See you soon.

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