The Diplomat, by Stanley Martin Tribute by Mr. Stanley Martin, CVO - Chairman- Elect of the Royal Over-Seas League and former First Assistant Marshal of the Diplomatic Corps. Royal Overseas League, April 28th 2005 Dear Leana, Family and Shafiq’s many friends, We have heard of the key role that Shafiq Arain had in the movement for the independence of Uganda and of the vital part he played in the early years of that independence. Fortunately, his post as Minister for Communications (in the old Common Services Organization in Nairobi) placed him beyond the physical reach of Idi Amin when that soldier seized power in Uganda in January 1971. Although Amin didn’t think so. He rang Shafiq and said: “If you don’t come home, I’ll come and get you”. I am glad to say there are times when the British Diplomatic Service has its uses - and this was one of them. A great friend of mine, Sir Leonard Allison (whom I saw recently), was Counsellor in the British High Commission in Nairobi. He arranged for the swift move of Shafiq and his family to London. They came- in advance of those thousands of Asians expelled from Uganda by Amin. Like them, however, they prospered - by sheer hard work. I did not know Shafiq during the 1970’s. I first met him on Twelfth Night (6th January) in 1981 - almost a quarter of a century ago. He called on me at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office to discuss his forthcoming appointment as High Commissioner for Uganda. On 2nd February, I met him formally at Heathrow when he arrived to take up the post of High Commissioner. For the next five years, I knew him well and worked with him closely. Of course, Shafiq knew this country well - and this helped him greatly as High Commissioner. He had been at the Regent Street Polytechnic (now the University of Westminster, where I am a Visiting Professor) and at Nottingham University. Shafiq was an unusual African High Commissioner - Asian in origin. But this was deliberate on the part of President Obote. Not only was he repaying the great political debt he owed Shafiq. He was also dissociating himself from the deplorable actions of Amin in humiliating and expelling the Asian community, which had contributed so much to Uganda. President Obote had actually wanted Shafiq to be Minister of Finance but he wished to continue his children’s schooling in Britain. So, in addition to being High Commissioner in London, Shafiq was Minister Without Portfolio in the President’s Office, and he was in Uganda quite frequently. The task facing Shafiq Arain as High Commissioner was to present a new Uganda. Idi Amin had made this most beautiful country - and how I wish I had seen what so many of my friends and colleagues have described so movingly - Amin had made Uganda a sick joke in this country, and more widely. We knew of the brutal murders of the Archbishop, of judges and many, many others. We knew of his indiscriminate lashing out at Britain: the imprisonment of Denis Hills and the humiliating journey of the British Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary, Jim Callaghan, to secure his release. And we knew the other side of this disordered man: the worship of The Queen as his former ’Commander-in-Chief’, and his strange love of Scotland and the kilt. (Friends of ours who worked in Uganda had Sergeant Major Amin as their baby sitter. They told us: “the children loved him; he was just like a big, cuddly teddy bear”.) For the five years from 1981-1985, my wife and I saw a great deal of Shafiq and Leana. The London diplomatic scene has a certain precision. There is, of course, the work a High Commissioner does inside his own mission or outside it, specifically on behalf of his country - in Shafiq’s case, the new Uganda. When necessary, he wrote to the press to explain Uganda’s actions and views. An important part of a High Commissioner’s work, however, is on a wider stage - that of the royal and governmental scene in London. And that is where we saw Shafiq and Leana representing their country with dignity, charm and intelligence. At events like The Queen’s annual diplomatic reception, the state opening of Parliament, the Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary’s annual banquet, The Queen’s Birthday Parade - and so on. One of the important - and yet trivial - parts of that diplomatic scene is Royal Ascot week every June. The Arains were superbly qualified to take part in that, with their lovely house in Kennel Avenue, just across the road from the racecourse. We were privileged to be their guests there on many occasions, both during and after their official time in London. They were wonderful hosts. I am glad to say that our friendship continued for the 20 years after Shafiq ceased to be High Commissioner at the end of 1985. We kept in good touch, during Shafiq’s time at the Equatorial Bank and, most recently, at the events they organized for the Uganda Society for Disabled Children. During these last years, we knew only too well that Shafiq’s health was a matter for serious concern. He spent too much time in hospital and it was all very worrying for Leana and the children. Here, I should like to say a word - a few words - about Leana, Shafiq’s wife for nearly 40 years. A barrister and magistrate, she was the efficient and effective organiser of the Commonwealth and Ethnic Barristers Association in London, as well as serving on the Central Council of the Royal Over-Seas League. Despite her own career and her devoted role as mother to three children, she was Shafiq’s constant companion and helpmeet in his official life. She was one of the most visible and active High Commissioners’ wives in London. And what we have left now is the memory - and what a good memory that is. Of a wise, gentle, intelligent, kindly man - courteous to a fault. He was ’Honourable’ by nature as well as ’Honourable’ in title. It is appropriate, bearing in mind Shafiq’s last resting place, to recall a line of G.K. Chesterton: “before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green” Samuel Butler said: “Yet meet we shall, and part, and meet again where dead men meet - on lips of living men”. Shafiq Arain will be on the lips of living men for a long time to come...