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..”