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Dad was born in the town of Bharuch, in Gujarat in 1919, a regional centre of commerce on the Namada River. His father, an accountant, ran a company importing coconuts. One of nine children he loved sport especially swimming, which he did surreptitiously against his parents’ wishes after a friend died of drowning.
My father was a senior physician in Poland when the Second World War began. He spent the war fighting the Russians on the Eastern Front where he was arrested and sent to one of Stalin’s labour camps.
I was born and bred in Nottingham, but my parents came here in 1962 from Ghana. We were the only Black people on the whole of the street where we lived.
I was recruited from the Philippines in 2000 as part of a 40 person batch. It was my first time leaving my family and going abroad. I was feeling really lonely, but at the same time excited because it was a new chapter for me.
Before the independence of India from the British Empire, Britain brought workers from India to East Africa to build the railways. That’s how my family came to be in Kenya. Political upheaval began in the late 1960s and my dad got concerned. He thought we needed to move out before there were any major issues. Because we had British passports as a result of Kenya being a former British colony, we were advised to come here. My dad came first and the rest of the family came about a year later.
When I came over from Zimbabwe in 2002 it was an experiment really. I used to work in a good job back home, but my friend was here and kept saying, “You need to come over to the UK,” so I just wanted to try and see how it goes. I’m still here; it’s been more than 20 years of my life.
