Murderous Anarchy

"God is on my side," declared Uganda's dictator, General Idi Amin Dada, on the eve of a gigantic celebration to mark the fourth anniversary of the coup d 'etat that had brought him to power. He added: "Even the most powerful witchcraft cannot hurt me." It is growing more and more difficult to gainsay Big Daddy. There have been at least a dozen known attempts to overthrow him, six in 1974 alone. But the burly Amin has somehow survived.

The three-hour anniversary ceremony at Kampala's Nakivubo football stadium held late last month was as bizarre and ludicrous as its sponsor. Along with the traditional drums and dancers, the center of attention was Amin's "Black Watch," a motley assortment of Ugandan soldiers in Royal Stuart tartan kilts, tunics, diced glengarries and plastic sporrans decorated with pied crow feathers. A dozen Africans puffed Scotland the Brave on bagpipes--a measure of Amin's admiration for the Scots, which dates back to his days in the British army.

Despite the crowd's roaring approval of the festivities, Uganda today is a land of terror and discontent. During Big Daddy's four-year reign, at least 50,000 Ugandans--and perhaps four or five times that number--have been murdered. Amin's own brother-in-law, Wanume Kibedi, quit as Foreign Minister last year in disgust. Kibedi's glamorous replacement, Princess Elizabeth Bagaya, a former high-fashion model, was sacked two months ago on the trumped-up charge that she had made love to a white man in a rest room at Paris' Orly Airport. Last week Amin ordered Uganda's newspapers to publish an old photograph of her in the nude to prove, Amin said, that "she has plunged into an abyss of immorality." A fortnight ago, Finance Minister Emmanuel Wakhweya fled to London, explaining: "To live in Uganda today is hell."

That is certainly true. Inflation is running at 85% per year, the currency is practically worthless, and many staples are almost unobtainable. Ugandans do not complain lest they receive a visit from Amin's public safety unit, a corps of goons in dark glasses who, as a Ugandan exile put it, "specialize in making people disappear--permanently." For those who disappear only temporarily, there is the prospect of torture: Kampala abounds with tales of prisoners who have been buried to their necks in cesspools, forced to beat comrades to death or compelled to engage in cannibalism. Shopkeepers accused of price-gouging face execution by firing squad.

Insane Leader. While his country languishes, Amin loses no opportunity to nail down his reputation as the world's most unstable--if not downright insane --leader, publicly lecturing world leaders on their shortcomings and quarreling with neighboring African states. Two weeks ago he let it be known that he planned to make a state visit to Britain this summer, where he hopes--inexplicably--to meet with some of the 50,000 Asians whom, as he delicately put it, "I booted out" in 1972. Unsurprisingly, a Foreign Office spokesman said that such a visit was "unlikely."

Can Big Daddy last much longer? He travels only under heavy guard, mostly of trusted mercenaries from Sudan and Zaire. Moreover, given the murderous anarchy that exists in Uganda today, there is--and can be--no immediately obvious heir. With Amin slated to become president of the 42-member Organization of African Unity in June, his neighbors are growing fidgety at the prospect. At least five African heads of state have quietly let it be known that they would support a coup against Amin, and at least three others that they are not at all opposed to the idea.

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