The Exodus Begins

With the Maple Leaf flapping crisply from his white Mercedes limousine, Canadian High Commissioner William Olivier set out under a warm morning sun last week at the head of an official motorcade bound for the airport outside Kampala. Behind him followed three busloads of doctors, lawyers and engineers, together with their wives and children--the first group of Ugandan Asians to be offered refuge by Canada.

Olivier's personal diplomatic protection was an unusual but necessary gesture. In the wake of an abortive invasion by exiled Ugandan guerrillas two weeks ago, the country is a tinderbox of tension and fear. The journey to Entebbe Airport 20 miles outside the capital has become a nightmarish gauntlet for the departing Asians, who have been manhandled and robbed by soldiers manning five roadblocks along the way.

Last week's Canadian airlift was a model of prudent planning. Ottawa flew in 25 immigration and medical officers to process immigration applicants, expected to number 5,000. When Ugandan Dictator Idi Amin Dada insisted that Canada pay East African Airways a kickback of 20% on every fare, the Canadians decided to make the airlift free. Explained one indignant diplomat: "We would rather pay for the whole thing ourselves than pay ransom to Amin."

By contrast, the 4,000 Asians who had landed in Britain by the end of last week paid BOAC, British Caledonian and East African Airways a usuriously high charter fare of $286 a seat, more than the average family would pay on a scheduled flight. At their destination they found a mixed reception. Amin's threats of detention have created a climate of sympathy and good will for the victims of his mass expulsion of Asians holding British citizenship. But there still remains a strong undercurrent of racist opposition to the new arrivals. Responding to local pressures in some cities, the government has drawn up a "red list" of cities that the Asians are advised to avoid. The city of Leicester even went so far as to place advertisements in Kampala newspapers, telling Asians to stay away because of crowded conditions. The old military bases that have been readied as transit housing now threaten to become full-fledged refugee camps; at the Stradishall R.A.F. base, Asians were crammed 18 to a room.

Stalling. The British strategy seemed to be one of stalling for time in hopes that Amin might be prevailed upon to change his mind (or would be overthrown). Last week Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas-Home took the issue to the United Nations General Assembly and asked that other nations help ease the burden of resettlement. Some 15,000 refugees are expected to settle in India, and 15 other countries have come forward with offers to accept smaller numbers of the expelled Asians. (The U.S. has been slow in responding to Britain's request, but this week the State Department is expected to agree to admitting perhaps 1,000 under emergency provisions.)

Last week rumors of purges persisted throughout Uganda after a number of government officials were arrested. But the threat of war between Uganda and Tanzania, where the invasion was launched, appeared to subside when the two countries agreed in principle to a peace plan worked out by Somalia's Foreign Minister Omar Arteh Ghalib. Aside from a military mission hastily flown in by Libya, about the only good word Amin received from African leaders was a "Dear Brother" letter from Egypt's Anwar Sadat, deploring the "barbaric aggression" against Uganda. Coming a full week after the rebels' attack, the message appeared to be one more of symbolic than substantive support.

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