History of South Africa podcast

When we ended last episode a mounted patrol had stumbled on the main Zulu army of twenty thousand men which had which had hunkered down in the Ngwebeni Valley north east of Isandlwana. The British had been conducting patrols both north and south of the sphinx shaped mountain, and had been following a group of Zulu who were foraging mielies and cattle for the huge army. Looking down on this huge force, the shocked British patrol had opened fire on the warriors from their vantage point and galloped away to warn Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine back at Isandlwana about the impending threat. The effect of the fusillade on the Zulu warriors was instantaneous. Their discipline, shattered. Huddled in silence for hours they had been informed that the day of the attack would come on Thursday 23rd January, because the 22nd was the first day of the new moon - the day of the dead moon — the unmyuama or blackness when dark spiritual forces lurked close to the fragile membrane which separated the living and the dead. None of the warriors had been prepared for battle through the customary rituals, they had not been drawn up on a circle and sprinkled with medicines to ward off the unmyama, nor had they been addressed by their commanders. Thus no orders were given to attack on the 22nd — and despite the fear of unmyama, Ntshingwayo kaMahole Khoza’s men responded to a perfect moment. The uMcijo regiment broke ranks, joined by the uNokhenke, uDududu, iSanqu and imbibe who stood up and moved off at a rapid pace towards the Nyoni Heights, along with the umBonambi, iNgobamakosi and uVe. Their commanders, Ntshingwayo and Mavumengwana kaNdlela Ntuli tried to intercept these warriors, but they failed. Other regiments like the uTHulwana, iNdluyengwe, iNdlondlo and uDloko which had bivouacked further downstream in the Ngwebeni valley on the Zulu left remained seated. But the moment was too much for one of the more fiery induna’s of the uThulwana, Qethuka kaManqondo — the son of the Magwaza chief — he also broke away, sprinting after the uMcijo. The Zulu commanders worked quickly to settle the rest of the army - and pulled the remaining warriors into battle order, then marched off well behind those who had broken ranks. They used a depression behind the Nyoni heights to obscure their movements from the British down at Isandlwana. Remarkably, the Zulu left had now become the Zulu right, the Right were now in the centre, and the centre had been pushed to the left. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Durnford’s mounted reconnaissance patrol were beating a hasty retreat to Isandlwana. His sortie had always been ill-considered. If you recall last episode, Lord Chelmsford had ordered him to shore up the Isandlwana defenses, instead, he’d arrived on the morning of the 22nd and taken off in pursuit of some glory determined to throw himself and his men into the thick of fighting. Back at the British camp, Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine was informed just after midday that the Zulu army was on it’s way, Theophilus Shepstone junior relayed the information. Even today, there are acoustic peculiarities of the countryside around iSandlwana which can possibly be explained by the sharp hills and the rolling broken countryside. Sounds appear to bounce off the hills, echoing oddly, seemingly arriving in unexpected directions. During many re-enactments of the battle there, rifle volleys snap back and forth, providing almost no clue about the direction of fire. The sounds of these initial skirmishes merely confused those at Isandlwana. Reports were being fed back from the vedettes, the mounted scouts on the hills, including those high up on Isandlwana itself. “The enemy are in three columns” was one … another “The enemy are in force behind the hills on the left..” And then “the enemy are retiring in every direction…” It was one just before midday that was spot on .. but by then the flood of half accurate reports drowned it out.

The morning of January 22, 1879, dawned with a deceptive, stillness across Zululand masking the fact that over 45,000 men were in motion across a 200 kilometer front, each group operating in a vacuum of information that would, by sunset, shatter the British Victorian ego. At the coast, Colonel Charles Pearson’s Column No. 1 represented the textbook invasion. His force was a heavy, industrial machine led by the 3rd Foot regiment, the Buffs, along with the 99th Regiment, and the Naval Brigade dragging their heavy Gatling guns and artillery. By 5:00 AM, the 5000 strong column was already a dusty serpent stretching more than 8 kilometers back toward the Tugela River. Pearson’s scouts were a mix of the Natal Native Contingent and European volunteers who pushed through the tall grass toward the Nyezane River. They were being observed on Wombane mountain by the uDududu, iMbube, and isigQu regiments - 6,000 warriors under the command of Godide kaNdlela. Wombande mountain lay on the wagon trail between Gingingdlovu on the coastal flats, and Eshowe where Pearson was hoping to setup a main base at the abandoned Norwegian mission station before pushing on to ONdini and Cetshwayo’s HQ. The Zulu plan was traditional, await in complete stillness on the high-ground then sweep in for a surprise ambush. Pearson’s advance guard crossed the Nyezane River and crossed over at 7.30am. Thick bush grew all around, the cavalry was reconnoitering and saw nothing. Vedettes, or mounted guards, were placed to keep an eye out for the Zulu army. Pearson’s main party reached the knoll selected for the first stop at around 8am, and the men began to outspan their oxen for a late breakfast. As the laager was being formed up, a party of the Natal Native Contingent who scouted ahead attracted fire from Zulu snipers. The latest Zulu tactic which would also be repeated at Isandlwana, Rorke’s Drift, and as Evelyn Wood would report later from Hlobane mountain - a combination of heavy fire from high ground in support of a surging attack by warriors on foot. The road was a now completely commanded by Godide, along with the all important high ground and as his snipers fired non-stop, the Zulu horns swept towards the exposed British column. Naval officer Midshipman Lewis Coker had the honor of commanding the first Gatling gun to be used in combat by British troops. Pearson recognized the value of this machine gun and he ordered Coker to take up a position opposite the advancing Zulu. Coker fired off 300 rounds, and the Zulu attack shuddered and halted — then the sound of the rockets fiendishly shrieking led to a general withdrawal. Hart continued advancing on the retreating Zulu when one of the older warriors, his oiled head ring glistening in the morning sun, stopped and turned, fell to one knee in a classic rifleman’s position, took careful aim and fired — but missed. Then he bolted away. Hart noted the conventional approach this older warrior had taken. He’d been trained in the finer arts of fire and movement. 200 kilometers to the north of Pearson near the modern town of Vryheid, Colonel Evelyn Wood who led the left column of the British triple column invasion, was preparing for his morning assault atop the Zungwini Mountain. Wood was by far the most experienced and therefore pragmatic of the British commanders. He had the good fortune of commanding "Flying Column," the vast majority of his men were mounted. The force was centered on the 13th and 90th Light Infantry and the formidable Frontier Light Horse under Redvers Buller. It was in the centre of the three pronged British attack where the day of skop, skiet and donner would change history. This was at the foot of the Sphinx-like crag of Isandlwana where Chelmsford’s Second Column hunkered down.

Episode 253 - The order of Battle for Isandlwana and Nyezane as ‘ukuni’ Wood Heads North Three separate British columns are inside Zululand and things are hotting up — and not just because of the steamy summer temperatures. In the last few episodes I’ve concentrated on General Chelmsford’ and Colonel Glynn’s operations in the centre, second Column, as they made their way over the Mzinyathi River across from Rorke’s Drift - the centre of the British Invasion of Zululand. This episode we’ll wrap up what was going on in other sectors, further south near the coast, and further north near the Ncome - Blood River, and along the high ground there towards the Phongola River. The First column under Colonel Charles Pearson had entered Zululand across the lower Thukela on the 12th January and was lumbering towards Eshowe, en route to meet up with Chelmsford’s Column Two near Ondini prior to the final assault on King Cetshwayo kaMpande’s headquarters. When the main Zulu army had set off from the ritual jumping off point of kwaNodwengu near Ondini on the afternoon of Friday 17th January 1879 destination, Rorkes Drift, a smaller Zulu force marched off simultaneously. They went in the opposite direction, south west — heading to intercept Colonel Pearson. The uMxhapho ibutho, who were young and motivated, along with the older men of the uDlambedlu and izinGulubu regiments. During the march south towards the Thukela they would meet up with reinforcements. These were small local groups, the iNsukamngeni, the iQwa, uDududu, iNdabkawombe and few other even smaller entities mustered along the coast. The total size of this force was about 6000 led by seventy year-old isikhulu Godide, chief of the Ntuli —and commander of the uDlambedlu regiment. He was also the elder brother of Mavumengwana who as you know, was second in command of the main Zulu army marching towards Chelmsford. Alongside Godide were high ranking coastal chiefs Mantshiya kaMshandu of the Nzuzu, and the older Mbilwane kaMhlanganiso who was induna of the kwaGingingdlovu ikhanda. Other important commanders who joined were Masegwane kaSopigwasi — who happened to be an inceku or counsellor of the king. Phalane, a royal induna, was monitoring events in this second army. Colonel Charles Pearson’s Number one column included 4 750 men 384 wagons and 24 carts. Pearson not been in action since the Crimean War ended in 1856, spending time in St George Grenada, then various other postings until he was selected as one of the special service officers in South Africa. Despite his lack of recent combat experience, Pearson had the difficult task of leading the largest column over the greatest distance. He was ordered to cross the lower drift of the Thukela, then establish a base at the evacuated Norwegian mission station in Eshowe 60 kilometers further on. We’ll come back to what happened to Pearson’s column and the battle of Nyezane in Episode 254 because first we need to swing further north, past Chelmsford and Dartnell and Glynn, and Durnford, and to the Ncome River where the British left column had been very busy. Colonel Evelyn Wood was tasked with an attack on the Zulu in a wide arc from the Ncome or Blood River, all the way along the escarpment to the Phongola River. Wood was stationed at Utrecht and had dispatched a garrison of two companies of infantry to Luneberg, a German mission and farming community further East, closer to the disputed border with the Zulu Kingdom. It was positioned strategically near the eNtombe River, a key crossing point for supplies. There the British established Fort Clery first to guard the settlers then to protect the vulnerable line of communication for Colonel Wood's column as it advanced into Zululand. The amaQulusi lived here, and the action provoked the amaQulusini regiment to mobilize and march up to the enormous flat topped Hlobane Mountain.Unlike some of the other commanders, Wood was a veteran of multiple conflicts.

This is episode 252, it is January 19th 1879, and we’re standing alongside Lord Chelmsford at the British camp based at Rorke’s Drift — and nearby is Henry Francis Fynn Junior. Chelmsford had grown frustrated by the rain which had slowed the crossing of the Mzinyathi at Rorke’s Drift. He had also been frustrated by Henry Francis Fynn Junior who had been negotiating with Zulu chiefs without his permission. Fynn’s father, Henry Francis senior was the first English trader in Natal, and had spent time with King Shaka. The Fynn’s were all fluent in Zulu, and extremely informed when it came to Zulu matters and Fynn junior was working as the magistrate of Msinga region in Natal. Chelmsford was determined to have Fynn permanently attached to his staff, partly to keep and eye on him, and partly to consult with the experienced colonial seeking to test. his tactics. On the 16th January, Chelmsford had written to Fynn’s boss, Natal’s Lieutenant Governor Sir Henry Bulwer asking that he be reassigned. On reflection, Chelmsford decided he wasn’t going to wait for Bulwer and summarily ordered Fynn to Rorke’s Drift anyway. Lord Chelmsford was instituting his new plan of action which he’d outlined to Governor Sir Bartle Frere. Instead of leading his column - or to be completely accurate - Lieutenant Colonel Glynn’s column eastwards in a direct route to Isipesi and Cetshwayo kaMpande’s home of ONdini, he was going to concentrate his attention towards the Malakatha and Hlazakazi hills. These rise between Isandhlwana plain and the Mangeni Valley to the south East. It made sense, because Fynn junior had told him that the Zulu plan was to descend the Mangeni heights and attack Number three column in the rear so he needed to secure his invading columns right, or southern flank. At 9am on the 20th January, and with Fynn at his side, Chelmsford rode east from Rorke’s Drift and paused at ISandhlwana for breakfast. A civilized affair, cold meats, strong hot tea. He wanted to confront Mantshana kaMondisa, a amaQungebeni chief who had told Fynn he was considering joining the British. Which was strange, because prior to this, Mantshana was one of the chiefs believed to have been strongly in favor of a war against British. By the time Chelmsford’s men moved forward on the 20th, the Zulu population had largely abandoned the Mzinyathi River valley opposite Rorke’s Drift. So a great swathe of the country around Isandhlwana lay empty, the homesteads of the amaQungebeni deserted and forlorn, with a few bands of Zulu warriors hiding out in the hills, watching and waiting. Behind the Isipesi Mountain, 24 000 Zulu troops camped on the evening of the 20th January 1879. The warriors had marched at a fairly leisurely pace westwards towards the British, saving up their energy for the actual day of battle, whatever day that was. They did not march alone. Some of the women remained and would be with the column on the day of battle. For every three warriors, there was an udibi boy, a lad in his early teens, loaded down with as much paraphernalia as the haughty warriors could expect him to stagger along with — a cooking pot, sleeping mats, dismantled spare shield, and sometimes, if he was given the honor, carrying the warriors spears. Usually these boys carried a smaller spear of their own and those who did so were going to have an unexpected opportunity to wash their blades in the blood of the soldiers dressed in red. And in the blood of their kin serving with the British — the Natal Native Contingent.

Episode 251 and the British Invasion of Zululand is into it’s first week. King Cetshwayo kaMpande had prepared his people for war, and here it was, courtesy of Governor Sir Bartle Frere and led by Lord Chelmsford. After overrunning kwaSogetle the home of Sihayo he was on the move. It was therefore a sort of rough justice then that Cetshwayo had decided to send the bulk of his army to operate in Sihayo’s district. The Zulu army had been ritually prepared for war, marching off towards Chelmsfords invading column on Friday 17th January 1879. The uNokhenke regiment in the front, the army marched ten kilometers in a great single column to bivouac in the emaKhosini Valley after crossing the white Mfolozi River. If you recall last episode, I explained how Lieutenant Colonel Glynn had led the central British column until Lord Chelmsford arrived at their jump off point at Helmekaar - help each other. Lord Chelmsford just couldn’t help himself — he began to micro-manage the invasion and sidelined Glyn and his officers. On the other side, the Zulu column also had two commanders, managing the regiments jointly — Chief Ntshingwayo kaMahole Khoza of the kwaGqikazi, and Chief Mavumengwana kaNdlela Ntuli of the uThulwana. Ntshingwayo was almost 70 years-old and being older, his voice would usually sway any decision. He may have been aged, but he was extremely powerful, short and thickset, like a modern rugby prop, with the great thighs of most of the male descendants of Senzangakhona. Not only was he a great warrior, he was also a wonderful orator, his speeches melifluous and motivational, he had the gift of the gab. Chief Mavumengwana was the brother of isikhulu Godide of the Ntuli who was going to lead a separate column of Zulu warriors heading off to face the British Right Column crossing the Thukela. Mavumengwana and Godide’s father was Ndlela, Dingana’s chief induna, the family having a long relationship with Zulu royalty. Furthermore, Cetshwayo regarded Mavumengwana as a close friend — even though he was one of the chiefs who had preferred a policy of appeasement with the British than outright war. He had changed his mind by now, but it must be said that Zulu leadership was prepared to debate strategy — unlike the British. The officers in the English military establishment were supposed to seek points of view but as you’re going to hear, often the bewhiskered ego-riddled Victorian general failed to think logically and reacted like an outraged teen on Tiktok when their decisions were questioned. The king had been meeting daily with his councillors and trusted advisors, gathering in the early morning cold. The chiefs wrapped themselves in grey trade blankets against the chill, and ordinary Zulu called these men amanqe—vultures—for the way they huddled together, their grey wings folded close, as if sheltering something precious or contemplating something grave. The story about kwaSogekle had rippled down the length of the border and high up on the hills above the Middle Drift. Lieutenant Durnford’s men picked up a change in the mood of Zulu communities there, scanning the landscape through their field glasses from the other side of the Thukela. The countryside suddenly emptied ominously. The elders, along with women and children, left their homesteads and retreated into the mountains or deep into the thick Zululand bush. On the morning of 13th January Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Durnford received an ominous report a day after Chelmsford attack on kwaSogekle in the Batshe valley. Durnford was leading number two column in the vicinity of Middle Drift along the Thukela Border near Kranskop, a force of mounted men, a rocket battery and three battalions of the Natal Native Contingent.

First a quick note which the marketing weasel ordered me to announce. This week I received an email from Apple which read: "We’re thrilled to share some incredible news: History of South Africa podcast has been selected by our editors as one of Apple Podcasts' Best Shows of 2025! Congratulations on this fantastic achievement and for creating one of the most compelling shows of the year. We’re so excited to spotlight your work.” So to all the listeners and my supporters, for all your wonderful comments and suggestions, may we continue to survive the present in order to understand the past. 250 is what is known in maths as a 5-smooth number - none of its prime factors are greater than five. Factor 250 that is 250 ÷ 2 = 125 and 125 = 5 × 5 × 5. So the Prime Factors are all less than five. Strange but true. Culturally 250 is fascinating too - in Mandarin slang, Chinese, the number 250 pronounced er bai wu is an insult meaning idiot or simpleton. Which is apt, because a certain American president number 47 who is referred to as er bai wu is going to preside over his country’s 250th birthday celebrations in 2026. When we left off last episode, a British column of the 1/24 and 2/24, a host of irregular mounted men of the Natal Carbineers, the Natal Native Contingent and the Native Pioneers and their commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Glyn had entered Zululand by way of Rorke’s Drift and approached the kwaSogetle home of amaQungebeni inkosi Sihayo. 4700 British troops and support personnel, 220 wagons, 2000 oxen, 82 carts, 67 mules. It took over an hour for the column to pass a point it was so large. And as you heard, Cetshwayo kaMpande had decided that because this column was the largest, it was going to get special amabutho treatment. Lord Chelmsford had arrived at Helpmekaar on the eve of the invasion, and had taken over as commander of the column, which was to increase tension amongst the officers. Chelmsford tended to micromanage, and Glyn was highly experienced. Later, when a catastrophe unfolded, controversy would rage about who in fact was in charge. Glyn was already resentful that his role had been usurped. If you recall last episode, I explained how he’d put together the regiment in England, paid for his colonelcy, then led the regiment through the end of the 9th Frontier War and here was Chelmsford and his retinue, taking over. Here we are, Shepstone leading the central column, or Number 3 Column as it was known, with Glyn glowering. Column 1 was on the right flank, down the coast, crossing the lower Thukela with 5000 men under Colonel Charles Pearson comprised of the Naval Brigade, 2/3rd 60th Rifles, the 99th Regiment, Natal Native Contingent and artillery. Column two was Durnfords although technically it was closely attached to Glyn’s Column 3 - and both 2 and 3 were set to operate more closely than the Pearsons’ first column which was to head to the lower Thukela, cross the mighty river opposite the Zulu kraal at Gingingdlovu, advance to Eshowe and push on to Ondini. However, Pearson had been told to advance cautiously, and consolidate his men in Eshowe before continuing. He would end up besieged in Eshowe he had moved so slowly. Thus the arrival at Sihayo’s homestead kwaSogetle less than a day’s march across Rorke’s Drift. Sogetle was a natural flat-topped fortress which rose over 1000 feet from the valley floor, its approaches were strewn with boulders, it was steep and seemingly impregnable. The British faced a tough assignment. Had Cetshwayo kaMpande or chief Sihayo decided to rather defend this citadel, the battle would have no doubt been far more bloody. But the fortress was defended by only a small group of Sihayo’s men including one of his youngest sons Mkhumbikazulu. Most warriors including Siyaho himself and all his other sons had marched off to oNdini 116 kilometers away to join the main Zulu army.

The invasion of Zululand did not arrive suddenly. It had been constructed brick by brick over the preceding months, through decisions made in distant offices and on dusty border farms. By early January 1879 the machinery of British imperial confidence was fully wound, and the commanders in Natal believed they were about to conduct a short, sharp campaign to correct what they regarded as a troublesome frontier problem. For the people living along that frontier, the mood was more complex. Rumour travelled faste, and the Zulu intelligence network was already humming with accurate reports of British movements. Settlers and colonial units in Natal, meanwhile, watched the gathering storm with a mix of unease and bravado. The Boers, who had faced Zulu power before, offered advice the British would soon wish they had followed. And so, as the new year opened, both sides prepared for a conflict neither truly understood. The British approached with modern rifles, rockets and the calm assurance of empire. The Zulu prepared with discipline, speed and an intelligence system that outperformed anything Chelmsford could muster. All that remained was for the first column to step across the river January 11 1879 — the rainy season in Zululand lasts from January to March so the going would be muddy and the rivers flooding, but most importantly, there would be lots of sweet green grass for the thousands of oxen and horses. The fuel tank of mother nature was full. The British were keen to exploit their power, and were going to cross the border using ox-drawn wagons. On the eve of the invasion, Lord Chelmsford had declared martial law along the borders with Zululand. The Boers and the settlers who fought alongside this army met with Chelmsford and advised him to adopt the standard laager once inside enemy territory, a proven technique of holding out against vast numbers of warriors. Chelmsford ignored this advice from people who regarded as lower on the imperial ladder, but also because it took a great deal of time and effort to wheel the wagons into a circle, then outspan the oxen and even longer to reverse this procedure and inspan. He was going to learn a dreadful lesson in a few days and would begin laagering his troops as advised but too late for 1500 of his men. He had initially planned to break his 17 000 strong army in to five columns and to invade Zululand from different points, all joining up to converge at Cetshwayo kaMpande’s Great Place, oNdini — modern day Ulundi. By breaking up the columns, Chelmsford was hoping they would move faster across wet Zululand. He was forced to trim the number of columns down to 3 - the same number of columns in a Zulu attack with their two horns and a central chest tactic. These two combative nations were deploying similar ideas, the centre crashing into the foe as the two wings fold around them from the sides like the thumbs pressed together and hands throttling an enemy. It was in the area of intelligence however that Cetshwayo was ahead of Chelmsford. Whereas the British had no idea about where the Zulu army was, once the British entered Zululand, Cetshwayo was provided daily updates about the movement of his enemy. Even the smaller reconnaissance patrols were under scrutiny. He had a network of spies throughout the region, from beyond southern Natal all the way to Delagoa Bay, and into the Transvaal. If you’ve listened to this series you’ll remember how the Zulu and other military societies like the Basotho and amaNdebele valued accurate information at a time of war. Zulu spies were extremely detailed gatherers of data, an oral society after all prides itself on being able to memorize long lists of facts and figures. The number of troops, horses, guns, the direction of movement, the names of the commanders, even their character type all flowed into the Zulu heartland and Cetshwayo and his counsellors hungrily consumed the data.

Sir Bartle Frere’s ultimatum to Cetshwayo kaMpande of 11 January 1879 was about to expire. Last episode I explained the reasons behind Frere’s fevered decision, egged on as he was by Sir Theophilus Shepstone whose shadow looms large over the history of Natal - and South Africa. Cetshwayo’s diplomacy had relied on the British supporting him against the claims of the Boers to his territory to the north west, already volatile by Mpande’s reign, now it was going to set off one of the most unique wars of the colonial period. The Boers, Swazi and the Zulu all claimed this zone, rich as it was in reddish deep soil, around Phongola, Ntombe, Mkhondo. Beautiful territory too, it must be said, the deep riverine bush, open plains between, flat topped high mountains. In summer its warm, in winter, waterless, cold. The Zulu relied on seasonally moving their cattle up to these highlands in spring, and down to lower reaches of the hills in autumn. The Swazi would do the same if they could, and conflict over this land extended way back before the Boers rolled onto the landscape. Because the Disputed Territory was so far north, Natal authorities found it impossible to control any movement here, and as you heard last episode, their Border Commission report ruled that the land belonged to the Zulu and that the Boers had no legal status there. But Shepstone who was now Administrator of the annexed Transvaal, wanted to curry favor with the Boers and Frere wanted the various colonies and republics of South Africa to form a confederation. Cetshwayo was standing in his way, along with Pedi chief, Sekhukhuni. The last Eastern Cape Frontier War had ended, the amaXhosa were thought of as a defeated nation, while by now the British also regarded the Basotho as benign, so the industrialised military might of the British empire swiveled increasingly towards Zululand. Cetshwayo was walking a delicate line through the 1870s, frustrated internally by having no glorious campaign to prove he’d bloodied his men in a fantastic war, although defeating the Swazi, sort of, seizing a few mountain fortresses in the Lubombo range. These were on the margins of the Boer and Swazi, it was where Zibhebhu of the Nyawo lived. It was where Dingane had died if you recall — so the capture of the territory was a feather in Cetshwayo’s cap. While Cetshwayo brooded about his northern reaches, it was the murder of two Zulu women I mentioned last episode that was seized upon by the Natal Authorities as a part of the many pretexts to go to war. Cetshwayo was well aware of the value of firearms and horses. By 1878 there were 20 000 muskets in Zululand, but these were used like a throwing spear, and the stabbing spear was still the preferred method of dispatching your opponent. The stabbing was the principle of washing the spear, soaking it in your enemies blood, thus entering the hallowed portal of manhood. If your regiment did enough washing, then the King would announce that the amabutho had permission to marry and the man could don a hearing. So in a sense, successfully wielding a spear led directly to a sanctioned marriage, and the ability to create sons and daughters. The spear was a symbol of procreation if you like. Such a system had global resonances. In the homesteads of Zululand in 1878 as the build up to war took place, the senior commanders and chiefs were aware of the tide of colonialism washing up against their military system. It was in terms of tactics that the coming war that would be the greatest undoing of the Zulu system. All of these were overtaken by a more modern state or the machinery of empire and the pressure of time. The Spartans lost their supremacy after Leuctra (LOO-ktruh) in 371 BCE, their military culture fading under Macedonian and then Roman rule. The Aztec Empire was obliterated by the Spanish conquest in 1521. The Mongol empire fractured within a century of Genghis Khan’s death, its unity dissolved into regional khanates.

Episode 247 launches us into an intense period. We’re going to travel to the border between the Zulu kingdom and the Transvaal because there’s trouble brewing. When you hear what shenanigans were planned by British Governor Sir Bartle Frere, you probably won’t believe it. His partner in crime was Sir Theophilus Shepstone who in 1877, had just completed thirty years service as Secretary for Native Affairs in Natal. For the Zulu, the transformation of the Native Affairs Secretary into the Administrator of the newly annexed Transvaal was a serious development. As historian Jeff Guy points out, it destroyed the diplomatic link forged between Cetshwayo kaMpande and Shepstone at a particularly sensitive moment in history. Previously, Shepstone had been sympathetic to the Zulu in their border dispute with the Boers, but once the Natal official took office in the Transvaal, that sentiment shifted. The pressure of trying to reconcile the Boers to their newly annexed state was too much for Shepstone — he did not have the emotional courage nor the courage of his convictions to balance the needs and wants of both the Boers and the Zulu. “He turned his coat in the most shameless manner…” one Colonial Office official by the name of Fairfield is quoted as writing in a minute to Edward Stanley the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs after the War. Sir Bartle Frere the British High Commissioner in Cape Town, was determined to eradicate what he thought of as the Zulu threat. He was still busy sorting out the Ninth Frontier War against the Xhosa, and watching the Pedi battle the Boers in the north Eastern Transvaal. While that irritating side-show .. at least in Frere’s mind .. continued, here was Cetshwayo openly defying his Native Affairs man in Natal. Cetshwayo approached Natal’s lieutenant Governor Sir Henry Bulwer — after whom the town of Bulwer is named. By now it was clear the Zulu relationship with Shepstone was done. Bulwer had monitored what was going on and he was deeply disturbed by developments. It was ironic that the Zulu chief was turning to a British official as a mediator of sorts. Bulwer appointed a boundary commission to probe the dispute between the Boers and the Zulu.To Frere’s surprise, the commission found that the Boers of the Transvaal had no right to be in Zululand. Bulwer’s next dispatches concluded that Natal could maintain a peaceful policy towards the Zulu nation because it hadn’t violated any agreements with Natal and the Transvaal. Frere was dumbstruck, and so dumbstruck, he was struck dumb. He kept the report a secret for five months.

The year is1878 - and Cape Governor Sir Sir Bartle Frere is throwing the empire’s weight around South Africa. Let’s put ourselves in his shoes because some historians say he had a formidable Machiavellian personality, full of fatal overconfidence, too used to having his own way and to ignoring the magnitude of obstacles confronting him. One of those perceived obstacles was Zulu king, Cetshwayo kaMpande. Crowned in 1873 after the death of his father, Mpande kaSenzangakhona, Cetshwayo presided over a squabbling nation. His great place, Ondini, is close to where Ulundi is today. It was vast, elliptical in shape, stretching from 650 metres in one axis, to 507 in another. The outer circumference of his ikhanda, the royal residence, was over two kilometers long. The second part of his great place was a smaller group of ikhanda, and called emaNgweni. The unusual point about emaNgweni is that the principal hut was actually a western style house. The Norwegian missionaries at Empangeni had helped build this, consisting of three rooms with glass windows, along with wooden doors and whitewashed walls, under a thatched roof. Cetshwayo went a step further at Ondini, where his special residence was build out of sun dried bricks burned black. These materials were given to Cetshwayo by Norwegian Mission Society’s Reverend Ommund Oftebro. Ommund sounds like the uMondi, the Zulu word for a sweet, aromatic herb. This is a herb used to treat flatulance, ie farting, so there’s some irony in the fact that Reverend Ommund Oftebro’s mission station was acalled uMondi. It’s on the outskirts of Eshowe. This black bricked building at Ondini was larger than his other retreat, four wallpapered rooms, glazed windows and verandahs at the back and the front. It also had two outside doors with locks. The rooms contained European furniture, a washstand and a large mirror. King Cetshwayo would hold court in this house, tending to the affairs of state, consulting his councillors. At night, the doors would be locked and guarded by two women, armed with guns. Yes folks, women with guns. Cetshwayo’s chief gun-runner and a chief himself, John Dunne the English trader, personally trained Zulu VIP guards in how to shoot. The bodyguards would be instructed in musketry and were armed with short carbines, ideal for close quarter bodyguarding. Dunn took the women into the veld every day in the late afternoon, and target practice would follow which included peppering the local aloes. This echelon of women bodyguards accompanied Cetshwayo when he visited his chiefs ikhanda around Zululand with the intention of protecting him when the male amabutho were away. One of his maids in waiting, Nomguqo Dlamini, told of her life in the ikhanda in a rare book called Servant of Two Kings by Paulina Dlamini - she became a Christian and changed her name. The book is full of information about day to day life in the late 1870s, how the gatekeeper at onDini woke everyone by calling out the king’s praises, Cetshwayo would emerge after the women of the isigodlo had swept up the yard, then he often went off his sporting guns to hunt birds. Later, the king would head off to a small enclosure in the Royal Kraal where he would stand on a stone and be washed with water from the Mbilane stream, and rubbed down. The young men who attended the king were trusted sons of senior chiefs of the Xulu line, as well as other sons of Mnyamana. At the meeting of amabutho warriors in 1875, Cetshwayo had granted permission for the INdlondlo ibutho to put on their headrings and marry. These were men in the 40s, the iNdlondlo regiment had been formed way back in 1857, and these men had waited patiently for their turn to take wives. The problem was, he gave them permission to seek brides from the iNgcugce ibutho, where the girls there had been born between 1850 and 1853. They were far younger than the grizzled warriors seeking their hands in marriage.

Sir Bartle Frere had sailed into South Africa in March 1877 - lauded as a great British administrator in India. He arrived just in time to witness Sir Theophilus Shepstone seize, sorry, annex the Transvaal under the noses of the incredulous and in equal amounts, contemptuous Boers. Frere was another of Carnarvon’s boys, determined to enforce confederation onto south Africa. He was regarded as one of the most effective English civil servants in India, keeping the vital province of Sind quiet during the recent Indian Mutiny, and as Governor of Bombay, now Mumbai, he had been instrumental in upgrading the vast city’s infrastructure. He was by accounts, a man of integrity and quiet, diffident even as Frank Walsh puts it. The British Royal Family were friends, he was a member of the Privy Council and was showered with honours. India was compared to South Africa, it was diverse, more populous yes, but in India he dealt with sophisticated Indian Rulers and merchants. Carnarvon regarded Sir Bartle Frere as the ideal man to settle the quarrelsome and individualistic South African communities. But he was Indian in his experience, and not African. By contrast to the sophisticated Indian Rulers, South Africans were and are uncomplicated and pugnacious. All its people were the same then as we are now. Whatever our backgrounds, we remain pugnacious Africans, English, Afrikaners, Blacks, Coloureds, Indians and tick whatever box suits you on form XYZ. It would take only a few years trying to govern the ungovernable before he disintegrated in delusion, self-deception, irrationality and apparent senility. Frere had barely settled into his governor’s armchair to read Shepstone’s report into the latest challenges in the Transvaal — when the Ninth Frontier War burst into flame in the Eastern Cape.The amaMfengu had taken rapidly to the opportunities afforded by being part of the Cape Colony, and were also taking to urban trade in a revolutionary way. The Gcaleka resented the success of the amaMfengu, as well as their relationship with settlers. The Gcaleka were suffering the effects of the last war, the longest Frontier War and also the most vicious. Across the Kei, alcoholism was spreading, and poverty seeped through every household — made far worse by the actions of Nongqawuse’s cattle killing episode. What pushed everyone over the edge was mother nature, a series of devastating droughts across the Transkei destabilised the situation further. As Historian De Kiewiet says, in South Africa the heat of drought easily becomes the fever of war. What was supposed to be a wedding celebration in September 1877 turned into a bar fight when the tensions emerged after Gcaleka harassed the amMfengu in attendance. Things got a lot worse later that day when some Gcaleka men attacked a Cape Colony police outpost manned by amaMfengu in the main. Just a bit of trival violence said local officials, moving along, let the local police handle the matter. But back in Cape Town, Sir Bartle Frere sensed his moment partly because of his belief that Great Britain was spreading civilisation and eradicating barbarians, extending black rule over blacks, you know old chap, guiding them up the ladder of evolution and improving their standards of living through good administration and economic prosperity. Chief Mgolombane Sarhili kaHintsa of the amaGcaleka royal line was summoned by Frere but he had seen his ancestors summoned only to be thrown onto Robin Island. He ignored the summons so Sir Bartle promptly declared war on the amaXhosa. This was totally against the advice of the locals. All that Frere’s warning did is prompt the warriors among his people to gather and mobilise. Cape Prime Minister, John Molteno refused to sanction any invasion of the Transkei when he heard that Frere had declared war on Sarhili. At a meeting between Molteno and Frere, the British Governor promised that imperial troops would stay put and not cross into Gcalekaland.

Episode 244 and Victorian popular fiction author H Rider Haggard features as one of the main characters of this tale. Rider Haggards’ creation called Allan Quartermain appeared in 18 novels - the first in what has become known as is the Lost World genre. George Lucas and Philip Kaufman copied the Allan Quartermain template for Indiana Jones character - as well as the basic storylines for movies like Raiders of the Lost Ark. While King Solomon’s Mines is Rider Haggard’s most popular work, Allan Quartermain has since reappeared in movies in the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, which gave his books a bit of a push. His novels, which blended exploration, myth, and early ideas of evolution, also influenced the subconscious of his generation, resonating with spiritual and psychological themes that were explored by figures like Jung and Freud. Furthermore, his work reflects and grapples with late Victorian anxieties, including imperial politics, the changing role of religion, and burgeoning notions of race and empire. Right now, we’re saddling up with Theophilus Shepstone in Pietermaritzburg - it’s 1877. If you recall last episode, Transvaal President Burgers had gone to war against baPedi chief Sekhukhuni, which ended in a stalemate and reports of atrocities committed by German lead mercenaries. Burgers had already complained in England about their treatment of the Boer claims to the diamond fields - and the Colonial office had coughed up 90 000 pounds as compensation. You could call it a bribe, because that’s what it was. The boers accepted the compensation, but did not back down on their claims to land in the vicinity of the Transvaal, including baPedi land. As long as the Transvaal remained receptive to the confederation idea at least in Carnarvon’s mind, there was no real conflict to deal with amongst the local officials. But there was growing tension between an historian JJ Froude and Garnet Wolseley for example. Froude had been sent on a fact-finding mission to the colonies by Carnarvon and he became a surprising advocate for the Boers and the Free State and Transvaal Republics. His advice to Carnarvon was to let the states handle their own problems, as they resented interference from Downing Street. Cape Governor Sir Henry Barkly had been sending Carnarvon reports drawn largely from pro-annexationist newspapers in the Transvaal and the Cape Colony. These implied that the Transvaal was nearing a state of anarchy as a result of its war with the Sekukuni's baPedi. Eagerly lapping all this up was Sir Garnet Wolseley who was the very epitome of the Stiff upper lip Brit, a military officer and administrator, represented the opposite, more interventionist imperial view. In late December 1876, Sir Theophilus Shepstone departed from Pietermaritzburg in Natal with a small, almost symbolic, escort of just 25 Natal Mounted Police and a handful of officials including the young H Rider Haggard. Just as an aside, Haggard was not being paid for his duties as Shepstone’s secretary. Work experience I guess you’d call it. However, Shepstone's secret instructions were far more decisive: if he deemed it necessary and opportune, he was to annex the territory to the British Crown. The Transvaal had no easy revenue base, and Shepstone introduced new taxes on both black and white Transvalers, while his administrative reforms chafed the Boers. Most resented they now had no elected representation under British rule and resistance started almost immediately.

By 1876 the Sotho, Tswana, Venda, Pedi, the amaXhosa had all managed to secure for themselves a fairly easy access to firearms. The Griqualand Diamond fields ignited what could be called a small arms race on the veld. There was supposedly an arms embargo on blacks instituted by the British government two decades before, but this was frequently broken. In the Cape colony and Griqualand west diamond fields, the trade in firearms depended on two technicalities. Importers of these weapons had to deposit a bond which indicated to whom they were going to sell the guns. Because the colonies used these bonds or tariffs which is probably a more accurate description, as a source of revenue, the procedure was applied creatively. The second technicality was that Africans needed a magistrates permit to buy guns. Because the demand for labour was so extreme particularly in the diamond fields, this permit system was ignored by most of the miners. The winter of 1876 settled hard across the Transvaal. At night, the frost lay white along the banks of the Steelpoort River, the cattle breath rising like smoke in the early dawn. By mid-morning the sun was sharp, the air brittle, and the mountains to the east seemed to shimmer in their haze. Shimmering today are the minerals mined here, chrome, platinum, vanadium. These are the Leolo mountains, bastion of the Pedi under King Sekhukhune I. Across the valleys his people had built stone-walled settlements, ringed with thorn stockades, their cattle kraals protected by rifle pits dug into the hillsides. To the south, in Pretoria, President Thomas François Burgers prepared his republic for war. He was no soldier—trained instead in theology, prone to long speeches, dressed in sombre black. But he was determined to show that the Transvaal could still assert itself after years of debt, political squabbling, and military vascillation. On 16 May 1876, the Volksraad declared war on Sekhukhune. The long-simmering contest between the Pedi and the Boer republic was about to reach a climax.The Pedi kingdom was no stranger to conflict. Under Sekwati, Sekhukhune’s father, they had fought off repeated attacks during the mid-nineteenth century. Their stone fortresses had turned back Boer commandos in the 1840s and 1850s. Sekwati had once been besieged in Thaba Mosega, surviving by ingenuity, patience, and the determination of his people. Just a few weeks later came the episode that etched itself into Pedi memory. Johannes Dinkwanyane, half-brother of Sekhukhune led his people at the settlement of Mafolofolo. They were Christians, linked to missionary networks, yet fiercely loyal to Pedi sovereignty. In mid-July, Swazi forces allied to the Boers descended on Mafolofolo. The defenders fought desperately. After two days of fighting, Johannes was gravely wounded on 13 July and died three days later.By late August the war had collapsed into stalemate. President Burgers’ grand promise of quick victory had evaporated among the ridges of the Leolo mountains. The commando had withdrawn, Fort Krugerpos was thrown up in haste, and burghers grumbled about lost time and wasted cattle. The republic was broke, its men unwilling, its president mocked. It was into this void that Conrad von Schlickmann arrived.

Episode 242 is about putting ploughs into the ground, how the rural areas of much of the country was experiencing something of an agricultural revolution. It’s rather a fascinating tale, because there are tremendous contradictions in what we’re going to talk about this episode. As usual, there we will need to combine a global story with our local story —without doing so would be to stunt our awareness of the strands and tendrils that spread and connect. By the 1850s, Great Britain was manipulating trade and military as well as political power as reciprocating elements. This is a technique adopted by pretty much every empire since before Carthage. Political influence was used so as to extend and secure free exchange, in Britain’s case commerce and anglicisation, spread political influence and welded alliances. As Lord Palmerston so aptly pointed out “…It is the business of Government to open and secure the roads for the Merchant…” Antiquated regimes were its enemy and foreign tariffs were its enemy, as anyone knows, the greatest enemy of free trade are tariffs. Empires were broken, the gouty and outdated Chinese, the religion-strangled Turkey, innumerable sheikdoms, sultanates and chieftancies were drawn into the invisible British empire of informal sway. When merchants manage affairs instead of men with guns, it’s harder to pin down the essence of power — and also the dangers. The results of this grand vision were not encouraging by the 1870s and the Victorians were less sure of their panacea for both Asia and Africa. Among the ancient and invincibly conservative Confucian and Islamic rulers, no effective westernising collaborators had been found. The Tai’ping rebellion in China and the growing chaos in Muslim states appeared never ending. It was the United States that was gobbling up immigrants — most of Britain’s emigrants went there, and the Victorians bought and sold more there than in any other single country. It had dawned on the British political elite that their commerical experience impressed a single portentous fact — that their most successful trading associations with the exception of the Indian Empire, were with Europeans transplanted abroad. They accounted for around 70 percent of all her investment overseas. The white communities in the temperate zones had the outlook and the institutions favourable to progress which the Asiatics and Africans seemed to lack. They offered customers with European tastes and money to spend. Mutual self-interest with whites of their empire meant private business of Great Britain commingled freely with that of Greater Britain and the once-colonial societies of the New World — the Americans and many in South America too. At the same time, the colonists were growing more bitter about Downing Street control and self-government appeared one solution. The aim was to avert the loss of more colonies and more American Wars of independence. So by the 1870s, confederated Canada, responsibly governed Australia and the Cape were regarded as constitutional embodiments of collaboration between British and colonial interests — all working at their best. The number of trading stores in the Transkei quadrupled to a few hundred, and all of this meant that there was a major qualitative shift in the cumsumption patterns of Africans. New permanent wants replaced needs, metal was now preferred to traditionally crafted pots and baskets, the cow-hide kaross was replaced by the Witney blanket, ploughs and all manner of tools flooded into these developing farms. Around South Africa, energy seemed to be surging. Take the highveld for example. The sour veld of the Harrismith district to be precise. Largely used for summer grazing, the farmers here often moved their herds into Natal every autumn. Below the Berg as they put, OnderBerg. Underberg.

Episode 241 and we’re back with the diamond miners and their Kaias and Cocopans. More about this in a minute. A big thank you to Donald Paterson who’s great-great-great grandfather founded Standard Bank, he’s sent a couple of pictures I’m going to use in my next newsletter. And to Rob Bernstein who’s producing a photo-book and who’s asked me to write an epilogue, thanks for the coffee chat and the opportunity. Last we heard about plans for South African Confederation, this episode ties up with the momentum building towards the invasion of Zululand by the British, and almost simultaneously, the first Anglo-Boer War. We’ve entered the mid-1870s where all manner of momentums are also building up globally as the European powers jostled for African land in order to feed their industrial centres, and their geopolitical ambitions. The panic on the Vienna Stock exchange in May 1873 caused shares to decline worldwide and ushered in the 1873-1879 Great Depression. The Suez Canal was also close to bankcruptcy because there weren’t enough steam ships in the world and the canal was better adapted to steam. The Khedive of Egypt was forced to sell his shares in the Suez Canal Company to the British Government with help from bankers and the Rothschild family. In Britain the downturn was going to last until much later - the late 1890s, and diamond prices were also falling. Despite this, South Africa was in a bit of a boom period. In the diamond fields, the diggers were facing a problem and it was about geology. They had been digging in what they called yellow ground which was kimberlite rock. Over millions of years, the kimberlite in the top part of the volcanic pipe was exposed to the surface and weathered by the elements, including water and air. This process oxidized the iron-rich minerals in the rock, giving it a soft, friable, yellowish-brown color. Because it was so soft, it was easy for the early diggers to excavate with simple picks and shovels and to sieve for diamonds. But as they dug deeper by 1873 they passed through the weathered yellow ground and hit the un-oxidized, fresh kimberlite rock below. This rock, which they called "blue ground" due to its hard, bluish-gray color, was much more compact and difficult to mine. Its hardness led many early prospectors to abandon their claims, mistakenly believing they had reached the end of the diamond-bearing ground. The discovery that the blue ground contained even richer deposits of diamonds was a pivotal moment that led to the development of the large-scale industrial mining operations at Kimberley. And Cecil John Rhodes returned from his failed attempt at obtaining a law degree in England to rejoin his brother on the diamond fields to take advantage of all these changes. Jerome Babe wrote in his journal how he rose at the break of day, then dug until 9am. Breakfast was taken until 10am, when the diggers reconvened. Most diggings had two white men and five black men who could get through fifteen cart loads a day. The black workers would wash enough gravel in four hours for the mainly white diggers to sort through in ten hours. At 1pm they all knocked off for lunch until two pm, then washing would end at four pm. That wasn’t the end of the day. The washers, the black labourers, would head back to the mining area to gather material for the next day’s washes and many miners continued working when there was moon, carrying the gravel to the river for the next day’s washing. The diggers committees which had managed these mines was now an unsustainable way to administrate claims. Claim-jumping which took place when a mine was unworked for more than three days had increased instability and litigation was accelerating. It looked chaotic because the rights to small-claim ownership was being circumented by monopolies using fronts, straw men as they were known. Another very old South African tradition. Griqualand West Lieutenant Governor Richard Southey wanted state regulation.

This is episode 240 and our swivels to the north - a Great Apostle for Confederation and the pre-Scramble for Africa Geopolitical Omlette. Part of this story is a continuation of the Langalibalele Affair in Natal which had created the perception that the authorities there were unable to cope. This provided an opportunity for Colonial office back in England to consider radical moves like forcing through a Confederation of South African colonies. Throughout the 1870s, Lord Carnarvon the British Secretary of State for the Colonies attempted to unite both the colonies and the Boer Republics into a self-governing — settler self-governing — dominion under the British flag. This was a somewhat grandiose scheme and there’s a heady debate amongst historians about why Carnarvon tried to do this. We’re going to take a closer look at what was going on internationally and how South Africa factored into this global picture because its part of the story. The concept of a confederated South Africa was obviously opposed by the Boer Republics. More significantly, it was also opposed by the Molteno Administration of the Cape Colony which was the biggest and the richest South African state by far. Liberal humanist historians believe Carnarvon wanted confederation to protect blacks from the colonials - but that’s a shallow version of events. It was in Natal where the largest portion of the white population favoured confederation but even there lieutenant Governor Chilly Pine described an ‘apathy and indifference’ to the policy by some. John X Merriman who was a member of Molteno’s cabinet said “The fact is that the cry for Confederation is purely an extraneous one, born in the brain of Lord Carnarvon, local prejudice and local jealousy tending the other way…” Molteno and his Merriman were focused on infrastructure, work had begun on the Cape Parliamentary buildings in 1874, government funding of education was legislated, and the Molteno Government also established the South African public library system.  Nevertheless, in other circles in South Africa the call for Federation was growing — take the merchants of Port Elizabeth and a large section of English-speaking Natalians for example. With regard to the Port Elizabethans, the easterners as they were known, it was as matter of being dominated by western based politicians — western as in Western Cape just for clarification. Natal had yet to receive responsible government, unlike the Cape. Given the various political currents surging about the region, why did Carnarvon pursue the idea of Conferederation so aggressively? Theophilus Shepstone could be one reason. The Veteran of Natal’s Native Affairs had met Carnarvon and converted him to what historian RL Cope calls an instrument of the sub-imperialist forces emanating from Natal. There was as paradox here. The tiny white minority of Natal was fearful of the black majority and therefore harboured impulses to bring further tracts of African territory under British Control. It was this demographic imbalance that drove the colonials voice, but it was a contradictory position for any imperial government to take. Why support a tiny group — unlike in the Cape which had a vibrant economy and was dominated by settler interests both financially and demographically. For Natalians, the perpetual labour shortage seemed insurmountable, maybe a forced union of some sort would open up other colonies where labour could be exploited. With both Carnarvon and Shepstone believing in Confederation, trifling over black labour appeared to be the least of their challenges. Furthermore, in Port Elizabeth, a powerful voice supporting their position was also developing rapidly. And he had cash to burn. That was founder of the Standard Bank, John Paterson. As a leading Port Elizabeth merchant, the Cape Argus described him as “A great apostle of confederation..”

When we left off last episode amaHlubi chief Langalibalele and a few hundred warriors had sought shelter inside Basotholand, crossing the Drakensberg Mountains through Bushmans Pass in November 1873. When the British tried to send columns to corner him, one of the columns had been stopped by amaHlubi at the pass where five of the British troops had been killed, three young Natal Carbineers, a Basotho tracker and a translator. This event had shocked the settlers of Natal, and in response by Lieutenant Governor Chilly Pine began a campaign to destroy the amaHlubi and amaNgwe in their two locations, west of the town of where Mooi River is today. Pine declared Martial Law. Most of the amaNgwe and amaHlubi men fled, and the British rounded up women and children and the elderly. The women and children were placed in the charge of friendly chiefs in the up-country districts, while the old men were sent to Pietermarizburg to be kept under surveillance by other friendly black chiefs. On the 17th December, as a kind of afterthought, Pine followed this up with a declaration that all amaNgwe were now officially dispossessed of their land. The arbitrary killings of both clans continued mostly by the African levies, under the watchful eyes of colonial officers who appeared to be egging them on. Major Anthony Durnford, a professional soldier and engineer who’d been wounded by the amaHlubi during the battle of Bushman’s Pass earlier in November was one of the few who spoke up against the bloodletting. “There have been sad sights …” he reported “…women and children butchered by our black allies too often unhappily by the permission and encouragement of the white leaders… old men too … the burnt villages — dead women … it was horrible.” Two columns of volunteers and African levies were now searching for Langalibalele. One headed to East Griqualand, while the other rode back to Bushman’s Pass following the spoor left by the amaHlubi cattle. The amaHlubi warriors had taken all their cattle into Basotholand to join their chief. Natal authorities were offering a one pound reward per warrior captured, and 100 cattle for Langalibalele, dead or alive. The amaHlubi chief was deep in Basotholand, close to the Senqu river, the Orange, about fifty kilometres west of the Bushman River Pass. By early January several hundred men and about 7 000 cattle assembled under his command. He had no clear plan about what to do, his original idea was to escape from the British then ponder next steps. But now he was in Sotho territory, very much out of his depth. Boers in the Zuid Afrikaanse Republiek and the Free State formed commandos and sent them to the borders in case Langalibalele showed up — or in case any of the chiefs that surrounded their territories decided to join in. Eastern Cape and Natal English farmers sent their women and children into towns, battening down their farm hatches. Their fears were heightened by the role that Basotholand was appearing to play. In the minds of the colonists, this mountain kingdom was thought of as the Central South African powder Magazine — a place no-one could control, full of guns now bought by workers on the diamond mines and farms. It was in the heartland of south Africa, annexed by the British in 1868, ruled by a new king Letsie who had succeeded Moshoeshoe. Although annexed to the Cape in 1871, it remained a highly unstable land in the minds of colonials. Langalibalele had no idea of all of this as he considered his next steps inside Basotholand. The British had also mobilised hundreds of troops who boarded the HMS Rattlesnake in Cape Town and were en route to bolster Natal while a large police force rode into Basotholand from the Cape’s eastern Frontier region. IN East Griqualand, Adam Kok’s Griqua also mobilised in support of the British. The amaHlubi chief eventually handed himself over to the Basotholand chief Molapo and was taken back to Pietermaritzburg for his trial.

This is episode 238 and it’s going to be full of legal back and forth, all about the Langalibalele Rebellion, another little war as the London times called it — it’s action at Bushman’s River Pass after which British engineers will be sent to blow up bits of the Drakensberg. In 1873 Benjamin Chilly Campbell Pine was reappointed as Lieutenant-Governor of Natal. Pine was a career officer in the British Colonial Services, and this was the second time he was taking up the post of Lieutenant Governor in Natal. His first stint was logged between April 1850 to March 1855 and Pinetown on the hills above Durban is named after him. Then he spent time in the Gold Coast in Ghana, then the West Indies, as Governor of the Leeward Islands and Antigua. His second stint was cut short largely because of how he was going to deal with the Langalibalele affair. Two other colonials will feature through our story this episode, one being Theophilus Shepstone the Secretary of Native Affairs in Natal, and the other was Bishop John Colenso who was a liberal humanist and the implacable enemy of most British settlers. Pine's administration had to contend with the "Shepstone System," a policy of indirect rule developed by Theophilus Shepstone. This controversially separated African and European populations and was a dominant force in Natal's governance during Pine's tenure. While Pine and Shepstone collaborated, their administrations also faced criticism from white settlers over issues of land, labor, and the financing of native policy. The other main character of our tale today was Langalibalele, the hereditary chief of the Hlubi tribe from around 1836. After fleeing Zululand in 1849, he and his fellow refugees were granted land by the colonial authorities in the Escourt District, west of the town along the Msuluzi and Mtshezi Rivers. The town was laid out by Colonel Estcourt In 1847 and named after the British officer. The land the amaHlubi were handed was technically not for free, their obligations included protecting the colony from the San Raiders some galloping in from as far away as the Maluti Mountains. Langalibalele and his people were part of the Shepstone System, granted their own territory seperated from white farms. Ten years after arriving in their fertile rolling hills, Langalibalele headed off to Iswatini, Swaziland, where he’d fetched his head wife, uMzamose in 1857. There was some confusion about what the amaHlubi were expected to do. Essentially, their role was to form a buffer zone in the region and were even presented with some guns for that purpose, and once jobs opened up on the diamond mines, hundreds of amaHlubi men headed off to labour in Griqualand West, returning with valuable goods like horses, and more guns. The people flourished through the 1860s and into the early 1870s and were at peace with the colonial farmers, growing from 7 000 to 10 000 souls, with 15 000 head of cattle. The original 364 square kilometres of their land extended to more than 700 square kilometres. But the relationship with the British was riven by confusion and distrust. Natal was isolated from the hinterland by the formidabble Drakensberg Mountains, and was surrounded by black nations, thus increasing the paranoia of the settlers. The amaThembu and Xhosa to the south were respected, not to mention the amaZulu to the north East. Communication with the Cape was slow along the few roads and by sea, there were also few transport corridors in Natal itself which engendering a feeling of insecurity among the colonists.In Early March 1873 John Macfarlane singled Langalibalele and the amaHlubi out and demanded the registration of their guns in terms of Law 5. Langalibalele said he was too busy and suffering from an illness, and could not be expected to head off across such as vast area looking for his 2000 men and counting their guns. A war was brewing.

Although responsible government had come comparatively late for the Cape Colony, the transition in many ways was still too early. It had come twenty years after New Zealand and the state of Victoria in what was to become Australia. The easterners were only partly reconciled to the rule by a Cape Town elite, widely differing personalities made cooperation difficult. The staunchly liberal William Porter was opposed by the stiff proto-racist Robert Godlonton, there were rising stars like Francis William Reitz junior, the legislative leader of Beaufort West at the age of 28 — and the six foot four giant John X Merriman who was erratic, but his instinct for decency and his broad human empathy made him attractive to most who met him - Boer and Brit. He was of his time of course, intellectually convinced of the brotherhood of man as long at it meant white brotherhood. Like many colonists of the period, he found it impossible to deal with black south Africans on a sympathetic basis. There was the less attractive Gordon Sprigg, conceited and small in stature, big in ambition, but capable of folly and deception as historian Frank Welsh explains. There was the impressive Lion of Beaufort - John Molteno, who I have mentioned before, the first leader of the Cape when it achieved responsible government. Molteno owned one hundred thousand acres of well-tended land, and ran a thriving business. John Henry De Villiers was also in this first group of Cape leaders, already distinguishing himself also well off, the future Lord De Villiers, or De Villiers Graaf. Born in 1842, his public life was to fall in the most complicated and controversial period of South Africa’s history. I have his biography written by Eric Walker, and it is a running commentary from his point of view on South African history. Two interests dominated his life - law and federation. By the time he died his influence on South African law would be arguably greater than any other person, presiding over the senior court for more than forty years. He also took a keen interest in politics, mostly directed towards the idea of federating South African states and colonies. De Villiers had what was called a balanced affection for both Britain and South Africa. Speak of an affection for Britain but not necessarily balanced with an affection for Africa, were the English colonists of Natal. Blacks who owned land in Natal were technically allowed to vote, as in the Cape, but every statagem was employed to weaklen this right. There was a high property qualification in Natal, but other restrictions had been added through the 1860s, when black Natalians were not allowed even to petition for admission to the electoral roll until they’d cleared a series of hurdles. Seven years of exemption from customary law being the first hurdle, then three white men had to sign approval of the black Natalian gaining the vote, which was a complete negation of the colour-blind principle which was supposed to be driving this political right. Once the black Natalian had managed to clear those hurdles, believe it or not, there was one more. He had to seek permission from the Lieutenant Governor. The list of black voters in Natal for this period was an A4 Page long. So it was deeply ironic then that one of Zulu King Cetshwayo kaMpande’s most trusted chiefs - and one of his most important, was Englishman John Dunn. He was the antithesis of everything that the urbanised English settler espoused - living and marrying into the Zulu people, his descendents fiercely proud members of a large clan today. He elicited from those around him the phrase “going native” which is one of the most insidious relics of colonial thought.

The sound of mining — And the sound of money — All across Griqualand West, tent towns mushroomed overnight, teeming with fortune seekers from around the world. Tens of thousands by 1873, all descending on a patch of dusty ground that was soon to become a beacon of development on the landscape. Kimberley. In the modern world, industrial diamonds have hammered the industry business model, China overwhelmingly dominates global production of synthetic industrial diamonds accounting for about 90% of the total total. But in the 19th century, diamonds were still as rare as as teetotaler in a Kimberley tavern. This episode we’ll hear about the entrepreneurs both black and white, and the future Robber Baron and colonial Dreamer, Cecil John Rhodes. It was in May 1871 after the harvest at the Rhodes brothers cotton farm in Richmond in Natal had come in, that Rhodes began his long career of harvesting the right connections. Brother Herbert sailed to Natal two years earlier, and now Cecil was helping manage the 250 acre farm, helped by 30 black labourers. Herbert however had heard about the riches discovered in Griqualand West and headed off to the Diamond Fields in early 1871, leaving Cecil to run the show in Natal. Young Cecil attended the annual meeting of the colonies agricultural society where he exhibited samples of their cotton, in attendance were Natal’s colonial elite. There were long after-dinner political speeches, all ending with a toast. IN the haze of cigar and tobacco smoke, and a haze of multiple shots of whiskey, one settler called for a man to offer the traditional toast to the Ladies. So it was ironic that Cecil Rhodes rose in response, and thus delivered his first ever public speech according to his friend and biographer, Lewis Mitchell. Ironic because Rhodes would never form a initimate relationship with a woman as far as we know . As he grew more powerful, he would always surround himself with young male private secretaries and later would make one - Neville Pickering, the sole beneficiary of his will. In the Victorian era, being openly homosexual was socially unacceptable and illegal, so any such relationships would have been kept private. We are hampered by a lack of personal diaries or revealing letters from Rhodes himself, making it difficult to reach a firm, irrefutable conclusion about his private life. The scale claim-owners did much of their own manual labour, but for the most part the work was done by black labourers, picking at the ground, smashing the bumps of earth and rock, sieving the lime dust through a coarse wire sieve, rubble thrown aside, what remained placed on a sorting table. A small scraper would be used to spread the rock on the tables, scooping after picking the diamonds out, repeat repeat. In early 1872 Herbert went back to their farm in Richmond to welcome yet another brother, Frank, to South Africa. Cecil was left in charge and suffered under the stress, hard labour in a harsh climate, supervising his business, and a sudden death of his friend John Thompson. He was smoking and drinking too much, breathing in too much dust, dehydrated — and collapsed — to be nursed back to health by John Blades Currey’s wife, Mary. He was still only 18 years old and almost died. In his miasmic state, he wrote his will which is prescient, and somewhat theatrical, leaving all his possessions to Britain’s Secretary of State for the colonies, Lord Kimberly instead of his family. New promulgations were thus passed by the miners themselves, black people could not stay in the mining camps for longer than two days without a master, they also had to observe a curfew after 9pm. Punishment for failing to observe these rules, 25 lashes or 10 shillings fine. All this at a time when most of the English-speaking world was repealing lashing.