History of South Africa podcast

The twenty thousand strong Zulu army was camped near Nseka Mountain south of the British camp at Khambula hill — north west of modern day Vryheid. After defeating Lieutenant Colonel Evelyn Wood’s Number 4 column at Hlobane, Zulu commanders Ntshingwayo and Mnyamana stopped to rest their men on the banks of the White Mfolozi. about twenty kilometers from the British camp.

Wood’s column had retreated to the base at Khambula Garrison — along with the cavalry led by Redverse Buller after the thrashing they’d received at the Battle of Hlobane. You heard about that in episode 262.

Perhaps it made sense to wait, the British had already been reinforcing Kambula for weeks and the position that Evelyn held was strong. They had spent weeks digging elongated earthworks, a redoubt on a narrow ridge of tableland on the summit of Khambula. There were two guns here, and it was connected to the main wagon-laager which lay 20 meters below and 280 metres away by the four other guns placed at regular intervals. These were significant weapons.

The wheels of the wagons were lashed together, and each wagon-pole or tied tightly to the wagon ahead, sods of earth had been thrown up under the wagons to form ramparts, and bags of provisions run along the outside of the buckrails of the wagons with firing slits every few yards.

Below this defensive structure was another smaller laager of wagons, connected by a palisade — into which 2000 cattle were crammed. On the right side of both laagers lay a rocky ravine, no-one would be climbing up this access point and through which the stream of Selandlovu rushed. To the left, the ground sloped away more gently, and provided an excellent field of fire.

Wood had 2 086 officers and men, including eight companies of the 90th Light Infantry — and seven companies of the 1/13th Light infantry totaling 1240 troops. The mounted squadron included 99 from the Mounted Infantry, four troops of the Frontier light horse of 165 men, two troops of Raaff’s Transvaal Rangers, almost a hundred of Baker’s Horse, 40 more from the Kaffrarian Rifles, bolstered by a Mounted Basotho group of 74, they’d come all the way from Basotholand, from further south, joined by 16 men of the Border Horse, along with 41 Boers from a local northern Zululand commando.

58 black support troops were also camped at Kambula, along with 11 Royal Engineers, and 110 men of the number 11 Battery, Royal Artillery and their six 7 pounders.

This was a well balanced column, but still about ten percent the size of the nearby Zulu army. The British had a major advantage, they were defending a well constructed and armed with the latest weapons of war.

Unlike the other battles, the British had measured out range markers and setup stone cairns painted white. The Zulu would not be able to easily charge Khambula over the open ground, nor climb quickly enough in numbers to attack over the steep eastern edge.

Dawn broke on the 29th March 1879 and the Zulu commanders gathered their men. The youngsters demanded the army launch a straightforward charge up the slope to smash the English once and for all, but Chiefs Mnyamana and Ntshingwayo were smarter than that. Both had strict orders from Cetshwayo about tactics, and he’d made it clear there would be no more direct full frontal attack on well dug-in British camps.

Mnyamana was more of a diplomat than soldier, if you remember it had been Ntshingwayo who led the men in their victory at Isandhlwana, but Mnyamana was technically the senior commander - so it was he who formed the amabutho into their traditional circle.

As the sun lifted over the hills, mist coiled along the White Mfolozi, and thousands of Zulu warriors formed in their regiments on the riverbank. They stood shoulder to shoulder while their commanders strode before them, voices rising, calling them to courage and endurance.

The battles are coming thick and fast because this is the end of the seventh decade of the 19th Century - the British have just been defeated at the Battle of Hlobane mountain on the 28th March.

There’s been so much skop skiet and Donner it’s time to reflect on matters further south west Before we buzz back to Zululand next episode.

n the Transvaal, resistance to British rule was slowly setting, like mortar hardening between stones, the scattered grievances of the Boers beginning to cohere into something firmer, more deliberate. Far to the west, Kimberley glittered with a different intensity - fortunes were rising from the dust, deals were struck in the heat and noise, and the great hole in the earth swallowed men and money alike. Yet beneath the clangour of picks and the shimmer of diamonds, another current was moving. For even as the town prospered, a sequence of personal tragedies was about to cast a longer shadow over Kimberley shaping not only its mood but the hardening temper of one of its most ambitious young men.

Cecil John Rhodes would endure a series of personal blows in the years ahead. These losses did not soften him. If anything, they seemed to harden an already melancholic temperament. One by one, the setbacks accumulated, and the young speculator who often appeared distant in manner would, in time, come to embody the ruthless vanity and moral ambiguity that marked the diamond fields and the empire they fed.

The string of tragedies began with his brother Herbert. It was he who had come to South Africa first and started the Cotton farm at Richmond near Pietermaritzburg. And It was he who had impulsively upped and off to Kimberley to look for diamonds. Once these had been unearthed and he’d convinced young Cecil to join him — he upped and off once more to the eastern Transvaal, where gold had been discovered. After a while he tired of that life and began gun running from Delagoa Bay to amaPedi people, then roved about into northern Mozambique and what is Malawi today. He hunted the next gold find everywhere he went, a mad Victorian searching for his personal treasure.

Cecil John Rhodes watched and took his own notes. He was already thirsting for power, and now he realised there were two routes. From Barney Barnato he learned the value of politics, and from JB Robinson he came to understand the uses of Journalism. Rhodes wanted something much bigger, and that was a seat in the Cape Parliament.

He ran for representative of a rural territory, Barklay West which was a mistake. When he appeared at a meeting one of the local boers told him off

“In the first place, you are too young, in the second, you look so damnably like an Englishman…”

Rhodes, unlike certain modern politicians, listened.

First stage of campaign complete, time for second stage. And here it may surprise many listeners, but he turned to black South Africans because at this time in our history, blacks could vote in the Cape.

All they had to do was show they had enough cash, the Cape qualified franchise. Every voter had to show either 25 pounds of land or more in value or prove they received at least 50 pounds a year in income.

After disbursing black workers with an unknown sum of money, 250 turned up to vote for Rhodes on election day and largely because of this support, he won. It is truly amazing that Cecil John Rhodes won his seat in the Cape Parliament because of black voters, and would go on to hold that seat in periods of triumph, disgrace and depression, until the day he died.

By mid-March 1879, Cetshwayo kaMpande made another attempt to open talks with Chelmsford, sending his indunas to negotiate for peace — but the British had no appetite for compromise.

On the 22nd March two emissaries arrived at Middle Drift, a central crossing between Natal and Zululand, but Chelmsford had already laid out rules that any Zulu representatives should communicate directly with him. Captain Frank Cherry who was He commanding officer of the 3rd Regiment, Natal Native Contingent (NNC), was stationed at Middle Drift. His job was primarily defensive—guarding that specific crossing point against a potential Zulu counter-invasion of Natal. Alongside him, F.B. Fynney - the Border Agent for the Lower Tugela. Fynney was a crucial figure because he was one of the few British officials who was fluent in Zulu and understood the nuances of Zulu diplomacy.

The two messengers used their Christian names, Johannes and Klaas. They brought a message from King Cetshwayo that essentially said: "What have I done? I want peace. Let the fighting stop.”

They were frigidly received and sent back with a reminder about the terms of the ultimatum before war began.

The British were also fully aware that Cetshwayo had called a general muster of his army at oNdini, and believed the two messengers were actually spies. A day later, on the 23rd March, two other messengers arrived in Eshowe but Lieutenant Colonel Pearson ordered them to be clapped into irons — they were spies he said and could not be accorded the traditional sanctity they enjoyed at royal emissaries.

Not to be denied, Cetshwayo, who by now had been joined by his main army and he was pondering where to send them. Unfortunately for Colonel Evelyn Wood, the Zulu King decided they should attack his column.

After the largely inconsequential but shocking massacre at the Ntombe River we covered last episode, Colonel Wood was in a bit of a bind. He’d lost over 70 men on the 12th March. Still, he had something positive to report to Lord Chelmsford, Cetshwayo’s eldest brother prince Hamu had decided to switch sides and support the British.

Many of the men of his amaButho had fought the British at Isandlwana, and Wood promptly recruited these very same men into his column as irregular troops, despite the fact that their spears had been so recently washed by imperial British blood.

It is hard to explain how the military works to most people, but battles are not carried out with the hot headedness of hate. So when a soldier wants to swap sides, usually they are debriefed, given a quick training update, checked to ensure they’re not lunatics, and then given their new uniforms and weapons and signed on. They are very useful when it comes to intelligence gathering.

Chelmsford was over the moon about Hamu’s move, and believed what he called the “important event” would ‘spread doubt and distrust in Zululand’. Partly to alleviate the pressure on Pearson in Eshowe, and partly because he hoped to capitalise on Hamu’s arrival, Chelmsford gave Wood carte blanche to make an attack on the Zulu.

“If you are in a position to make any forward movement about the 27th March, so that the news may reach the neighbourhood of Eshowe about the 29th, I think it might have a good effect…”

A relief column was on it’s way from Natal and would soon cross the lower Thukela on its way to Eshowe. Perhaps some kind of victory to the north where Wood was operating would draw Zulu amabutho away.

Wood was nothing if not a quick operator. A few days after receiving the order, on the 28th March, he launched a two-pronged attack on the abaQulusi stronghold of Hlobane Mountain. It was risky, not only did he have no idea of how many Zulu warriors faced him, he also had no idea about what lay in store on the summit.

Colonel Rowland’s number five column had been sent to guard the roads and garrison the Boer towns in the north eastern Transvaal — part to police the Zulu across the border, but also to overawe the more volatile Boers who wanted to take advantage of the war in Zululand by rebelling against British rule.

The German village of Luneberg was vulnerable, within striking distance of Mbilini, who was Cetshwayo’s loose canon along the Phongola River, and Manyanyoba who hailed from the Ntombe Valley. Although Manyonyoba had seemed prepared to open negotiations with the British, he was overborne by his chief induna who wanted to intensify the raiding. Once convinced he should support king Cetshwayo’s call for war, Manyonyoba led a powerful force to join Mbilini and Qulusi induna Tola kaDilikana who had made his way east from Hlobane.

Their target was the 1500 or so Christianised black workers, the amakholwa of the Ntombe Valley. They killed 41 amakholwa, burned their homes down and drove off hundreds of cattle.

In retaliation, British troops were sent to garrison Luneberg and four companies of the 80th Regiment were dispatched there under Major Charles Tucker. Redverse Buller joined them from Khambula further west, leading a force of 54 mounted men and 517 black auxiliaries against Manyonyoba’s caves. 34 Zulu were killed, five imizi were burned down and 375 head of cattle, 254 goats and 8 sheep captured for the loss of two black auxiliaries - but Manyonyoba remained at large, his main force unaffected.

Late in February a convoy of 18 wagons loaded with ammunition, flour and mealies left Lydenburg to resupply the garrison. At first things went well, but when they arrived at the border with Transvaal, their route was less secure — particularly as they approached the Ntombe River because Mbilini was operating close by.

Tucker sent a company of the 80th to escort the wagon train from Derby — but heavy rainfall swelled the rivers and softened the ground. By March 8th the convoy was still 16 kilometres out from Luneberg. Fearing an attack, Tucker sent a message to the company commander to get into Luneberg that night ‘at any cost’ — but the officer took the message literally and abandoned his wagons.

The British were riding their luck, and that lady was about to run out. The Zulu were monitoring all this movement and Mbilini realised his relatively large amabutho was powerful enough to smash this small company of British soldiers. Cetshwayo knew that important rule - keep your friends close but your enemies closer — at the outbreak of war he had ordered Hamu to oNdini where he could be kept under close scrutiny. But Hamu communicated with his chief izinduna Ngwegwana and Nymubana back in his district who exchanged secret messages with Colonel Wood in turn.

We’re touring the sub-continent today, choose your mode of transport — Cape Cart, ox-wagon, horse, mule, on foot? Before the arrival of steam locomotion, roads in South Africa were little more than rutted tracks created by repeated passage of wagons and animal teams rather than purpose-built carriageways. There was no formal road network in the early 19th century: routes developed organically where ox-wagons, horse-drawn carts, and pack animals repeatedly traversed the landscape, linking farms, military posts, and markets. These tracks followed natural contours and river fords, often taking months to traverse over rugged terrain.

The primary transport machines on land before railways were ox-wagons and horse-drawn vehicles. The ox-wagon was the backbone of overland transport. It carried heavy goods — from wool bales and foodstuffs to mining equipment — over long distances and difficult terrain. Transport riders, both European and African, led these wagons into the interior, resting at outspans before continuing. Their significance was such that even towns and trails were defined by their routes. Before the age of railways, South African towns grew up along the overland routes forged by ox-wagons, horses and people on foot, and the rhythms of travel on those routes had a profound influence on where settlements were established and how they were spaced. In an era when roads were not engineered highways but repeated trails across the veld, the limits of what an ox-wagon team or a horse-mounted traveller could cover in a day shaped the practical distances between reliable stopping places, watering spots and supply points — and ultimately played a role in the birth and growth of towns.

The first public railway service in South Africa marked a dramatic shift in land transport. The Natal Railway Companyopened a small line in June 1860, linking Point (Durban) to Market Square using steam traction — this was the earliest operational stretch of railway in the country. Its first locomotive, “The Natal,” carried goods and passengers, representing a novel machine in the South African transport system and signaling a move away from animal-powered haulage.

So after that sojourn through the wonderful world of 1879, we return to Zululand.

Lord Chelmsford was in a pickle. He had initially blamed the disaster at Isandlwana on his 2 IC Pulleine, and Durnford but by February, a few weeks after the battle, the general inclination of the Horse Guards back home was to point the finger at Chelmsford instead. In the British parliament, conservative prime minister Disraeli was struggling to spin a way out after the terrible news from South Africa,

“It is a military disaster,” he said in the House of Lords on 13th February “…a terrible military disaster, but I think we may say it is no more…”