In the third piece on his impressions of African immigrant communities in the UK, the former editor of the BBC's Focus on Africa, Robin White, describes the army of African care workers he has met from rich doctors to "bum wipers".
Dr Lwanda used to visit Glasgow's Botanical Gardens to keep warm as a student
In the Sudanese community in Birmingham I met Dr Zakaria Bol Deng, a former minister in southern Sudan before the outbreak of the current civil war.
He runs a thriving medical practice near the city centre, but says he plans to return home, now a peace deal has been signed between the government and the south.
In Scotland's biggest city, Glasgow, I met another doctor who's done very well for himself in the UK.
Dr John Lwanda came here as a medical student more than 30 years ago, and has never really returned home.
Just when he was qualifying, the heavy hand of Hastings Banda (also a medical student from Scotland) fell on Malawi.
Dr Lwanda became active with the opposition United Democratic Front (UDF), lobbying the outside world for support against Banda's one-party state, and was therefore not welcome back home.
A UDF victory should have ensured him a place in Malawi's new establishment, but then President Bakili Muluzi turned his back on him.
Dr Lwanda returned to his patients in Glasgow. Malawi's loss - Glasgow's gain.
Lower down the ladder of the British medical scene is a new phenomenon: African care workers. They call themselves "the bum wipers".
It is they who have taken on the jobs that no-one else wants: Looking after the elderly who can't care for themselves.
In Zimbabwe, my work was going into a studio. Now I'm doing lifting, manual work. It's not easy
Many of the new army of care workers are from Zimbabwe, victims of old age pensioner Robert Mugabe.
They have abandoned good middle class jobs in journalism, the law and business, to mark time in Britain until the "old man" goes.
Ironically these care workers had servants back home.
Shadai Tshuma had half a dozen cooks, gardeners, watchmen and cleaners.
Indeed, he still pays one servant to keep his house in order while he's in the ancient town of Colchester.
Meanwhile, he lives in a small flat, and serves the English elderly. He does not believe he will be going home very soon.
Happiness Pemiwah also swapped Zimbabwe, where she was a journalist and actress, for Colchester.
The hours are unsociable, the work demeaning and the pay not brilliant.
"It's hard work, especially if you're not used to it," Happiness told me.
"In Zimbabwe, my work was going into a studio, sitting behind a desk and using my voice. Now I'm doing lifting, manual work. It's not easy."
She says that she has no money to go out or go shopping, so she spends most of the time alone in her room.
"I miss home very much. Home is best," she said. What a waste of ability! But Zimbabwe's loss has become Britain's gain.