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:

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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.