It’s episode 216 and we are lurching back to the north east, to Zululand.

The heat is building up, and the conflicted relationship between King Mpande kaSenzanghakhona and his son, Cetshwayo kaMpande, is growing more complex by the minute.

But this being Zululand, that wasn’t the only competition in town.

There was an older son of Mpande, called Hamu, who was his first-born son by Nozibhuku, who in turn was the daughter of the much respected chief Sothondose of the Nxumalo people. If we turn our thoughts to the succession process of the AmaZulu which has always been a tricky trail, this episode will serve to illuminate the razor-sharp line royal heirs must walk.

Sothondose you see was Mbuyazi’s brother. And if you recall, Mbuyazi was the man who had been killed along with seven of his brothers and half brothers at the Battle of Nondokasuka by Cetshwayo. King Mpande had publicly referred to Mbuyazi as his heir apparent, and Cetshwayo thought he was a better candidate.

The plot thickens. It more than thickens, it congeals like thick red blood, spattered many times this episode. There is a Shakespearian correlation between his epic tales and those of the AmaZulu, where both are interlaced with human truths.

This week’s tale is a mist-mash of Macbeth, Richard the third, Henry the Sixth Part three. Perhaps you could include others, but let’s leave it at that for now.

IN Zululand, Mpande was king and he was apt to change his mind about his heir apparent. Cetshwayo had worked himself into the position by dint of killing Mbuyazi, and had begun to refer to Mpande as ixegwana, little-old man. Or Oomie which is why calling some middle-aged men Oomie can get you into trouble.

Hamu kaMpande was an insidious man, a persevering leader who wriggled about, an indulgent man according to oral tradition as well as the written descriptions we have of him.

Flabby, with the immense thighs of the house of Senzangakhona.

Hamu led the Ngenetsheni clan, and had supported Cetshwayo during the recent Civil War, where Mbuyazi had been defeated. That was the case even though his grandfather, Sothondose, was Mbuyazi’s brother. In other words Hamu fought against his Great Uncle.

Blood, it seems, isn’t thicker than water—unless it’s pooling in a cauldron of treachery and Macbethian dread.

Hamu also resented his bad luck, descended from Nzibe who ranked behind Mpande’s other sons. He liked to show off his bling so to speak, and gathered a massive isigodlo of women, 300 in all, and bragged about being quasi-independent of Mpande.

Cetshwayo kept a beady eye on these two, and there were confrontations with them, one took place in 1857. But nothing was resolved. Initially, Mbuyazi’s remaining brothers turned out to be more of a threat than Hamu and Maphitha, and this is where the Shakespearian blood letting began in earnest.

Cetshwayo wanted to kill Mbuyazi’s thirteen year old brother Mkhungo. Someone tipped off the teen that the death squad was on its way and he fled to safety in Natal across the Thukela River. Other members of his direct family were already seeling refuge there, his mom Monase and Sikhotha his half-brother.

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