History of South Africa podcast

Last episode we had joined Dinuzulu on his tour of the Boer New Republic as it was known in 1888, the area around modern day Utrecht. Piet Meyer the Republic leader thought it best to step back, wary of the fact that the Zulu chief had crossed the boundary line and was openly talking in treasonable terms at least from the British perspective. But the Qulusi branch of the Usuthu whom he led were impressed by the young chief, they had been cut off from the rest of Zululand, and began to muster on the large, imposing flat-topped Ceza Mountain. This bold geographical feature would become crucial in Zulu historiography - the site holds deep cultural and spiritual importance for the Zulu nation. An annual KwaCeza Mountain Prayer is held here, attended by Zulu Monarchs and provincial leaders who honour the resistance of King Dinuzulu. By March 1888 word spread in Zululand, and Natal, that the uSuthu had become a sanctuary for those defying the British, as well as their collaborator, Zibhebhu of the Mandlakazi. In…

On 27 April 1994, South Africa inaugurated a new constitutional democracy which embraced the freedom and equality of all sectors of the South African society. The Preamble of the Constitution states one of its aims was to “heal divisions of the past and establish a society based on democratic values, social justice and fundamental human rights”. This goal was to be realised by, among others, section 211 which recognised the institution, status and role of traditional leadership and entrenches indigenous African law as a source of South African law alongside the common law. Ironically, on the very same day, 27 April, in 1889, the British Administration rejected the time-honoured institution of traditional leadership in Africa and decided finally to remove the hereditary traditional leaders from Zulu society. This is generally regarded as the final act which caused irreparable harm to Zulu solidarity and has resonated down the ages. The British had tired of the constant warring, the tension amongst the…

The Ndebele chief said the Rudd concession document did not reflect his verbal agreements. His induna’s who’d negotiated the concession disputed the terms as well, along with missionary Charles Helms who’d translated for Lobengula. Nevertheless, chief negotiator Charles Rudd had returned to Kimberley clutching the concession, a single page document which purported to give Rhodes’ British South Africa company sole rights to mining gold throughout Matabeleland and Mashonaland, and other adjacent territories, in exchange for one thousand Martini Henry Rifles, 100 000 rounds of ammunition, one hundred pounds, and a gunboat on the Zambezi River. Lobengula said he’d only agreed to the rights for ten men to dig for gold at one spot rather than the general rights throughout the region to the north of the Limpopo river. Once they discovered what Rhodes was claiming, some Ndebele induna’s threatened to revolt. At least one, Gambo, approached the Boers of the Transvaal. To the East, there was also much trouble brewing…

We’re in Bulawayo, just over the border from the Limpopo, and very much part of South Africa’s story — the Ndebele Chief Lobengula ruled what was known generally as Matabeleland, in a territory that the British colonial office called Zambesia, which we now call, Zimbabwe. Name changing is one of the constants of world history, let alone African or South African. Empires rise and fall, kingdoms change, political leaders come and go, languages are part of empire. The area around the Ndebele settlement in 1888 was in the rough shape of a circle, the radius extending about 120 kilometers around the capital, known by Ndebele speakers as Gubulawayo. The circumference of the circle extended from what became known as Plumtree through Gwai, Gwelo, Selukwe, Shabani down to the Shashi River, then back to Plumtree. With that circle, Mzilikazi and then Lobengula had established some dominance over the nearby Sotho and Tswana majority. The magnitude and frequency of Ndebele warfare reinforced their roots in a militarised…

If you have access to Google Maps, or preferably, an original wall map of Africa, stand back for a moment to savour the grand vista which is southern Africa. Living on the tip looking upwards creates a culture of outwardness, a mental and psychological state of eternal expansion. Despite this grandiosity, for many, it is a place of entrapment, they express sentiments of being stuck at the end of Africa, peering outwards to the continents of Europe, or America, Australasia with a sense of longing. It is as though we are fenced in by our own preconceptions, endlessly scrolling through the timelines of the grand and glorious X Y or Z generation gallavanting through the safe woods of Croatia, swimming along the elegant isles of the Med, wondering at the delights of the Barrier Reef. Croatia, of course, is where European-based ethnic cleansing took place in 1995. Europe is where almost 50 million died 70 years ago in a world war. America has been transfixed by a form of national socialism, Australia faces Chinese…

Welcome back to the History of South Africa podcast with me your host, Des Latham. This is episode 291, The miracle of South Africa’s railway engineering and a little bit of commentary thrown into the mix. This episode is part history, party histrionic. Play sound - old steam train Yes, it’s the instantly recognizable sound of a steam train which I have traveled in around the world. First trip, pre-school from Nkwalini station to Empangeni where one of the main sugar mills of Zululand could be found. My grandmother Mavis Alport was the chaperon as young Desmond and brother Gary clambered aboard the snorting beast, a visceral experience. Exciting stuff, this steam-train business — except for the small matter of my eyes, which had been staring rapturously out of the window towards the engine, drinking in all that romance of steam trains. What everybody who has actually ridden behind a coal-fired boiler already knows, is that romance travels with shrapnel. Tiny incandescent shards of burnt coal, riding the…

In 1883 Joseph Moss, regarded as the wealthiest black man in Kimberley, stood before the newly formed Africander League in the diamond mining city. Africander spelled A F R I C A N D E R. It which was not what you’d imagine, the Africander League was made up of black and coloured men before whom Moss pronounced “We are Africans — we are not like Englishmen, who return to their own land. You are not here for a certain period to make money alone and then return to England to make yourselves great men…” Moss looked around the room at the faces of black and brown “…You are born here, your interest is here…” Because South Africa was not their place of birth, most Englishmen in Kimberley did not view it as their homeland. Within a generation, however, their descendants born on South African soil would be confronted with a historic question of identity: were they British, or were they South African? As Moss spoke he would have been aware of a similar sentiment amongst Dutch speaking South Africans, a rising…

It could be said that Cecil Rhodes quest for hegemony over the diamond industry of South Africa was quickened by rumours of significant gold discoveries in the Transvaal. Others say not, because no-one was aware in these heady days of just how valuable the Motherlode of Main Reef was to become. First a quick note. The easiest way to picture Kimberley in 1886–87 is not as a collection of neatly separated modern mining companies, each with its own mine. It was more like a gigantic underground chessboard, where the four great diamond mines around Kimberley—De Beers, Kimberley, Dutoitspan and Bultfontein—had originally been divided into hundreds of individual claims. A claim was essentially a small piece of ground, and in the early days an individual digger or small partnership could own one or several of them. As the workings became deeper and more dangerous, those little claims were progressively bundled together into larger holdings and companies. By the mid-1880s, therefore, you had companies that owned…

In the last few episodes we have tracked the miraculous discovery of gold on the Witwatersrand — the importance of which cannot really be overstated. While diamonds placed South Africa on the map, gold was going to convert the struggling region into a financial paradise for British financiers — and therein lies the imperial rub. However, it’s time to step back a tad to provide an historical overview for the late 1880s and it’s also time to zoom out of southern Africa to take a good hard look at global events. For centuries before European powers drew border lines across maps of the continent, the western Indian Ocean functioned as a single economic basin. Fleets of dhow’s linked Gujarat, the Persian Gulf, the South Arabian coast, and the Swahili littoral, their journey’s dictated by the predictable rhythm of the monsoon winds which blow southwest toward Africa from November to March and reverse northeast toward Arabia and India from April to September, This was a commercial matrix of city-states fueled by…

Onwards! Or more accurately - downwards! Because we’re continuing the saga of early gold digging around the farm Langlaagte, and the other farms like Turfontein, it is 1886, hundreds of treasure hunters have descended on the empty veld just south of the Witwatersrand Ridge. First a quick note about Kimberley, where the mining magnates were locked in a struggle for supremacy trying to secure control over the lucrative industry. As you heard last episode, one of these, JB Robinson, had run into cash difficulties but was determined to travel to the Witwatersrand to assess for himself just how much gold could be mined in the Main Reef discovered by the two Georges. He’d borrowed 20 000 pounds from another Kimberley magnate Alfred Beit, and along with Beit’s partner Maurice Marcus, launched the Robinson Syndicate with a total capital of 30 000 pounds. Then he leapt aboard a stagecoach for the gruelling four day trip between Kimberley and Potchefstroom where he arrived on the 22 July 1886. When this archetype…

Welcome back to the history of South Africa podcast with me your host, Des Latham. This is episode 286 - Johannesburg is proclaimed but the flow of water and cash provs challenging. We’ll start however, with the Orange Free State. Its president Johannes Brand was certainly carved from an original chunk of Boer marble — even the British empire recognized his magnificence, at least, Queen Victoria, who was knighted him. Brand was one of the main movers behind the first attempt at uniting the Boer Republics of the Transvaal and Orange Free State but the open hostility by Paul Kruger and the Burghers of the Transvaal scuttled his plans. President Brand had been voted into office in 1872 and for the next 20 years, the Free State was characterised by relative tranquility and modest prosperity. After Britain formally annexed Basutoland and Griqualand West, the Free State experienced a few ructions, but there was little friction between the Afrikaaners and their English compatriots. Brand was steadfast in his belief…

Farming dominated the Zuid Afrikaanse Republiek economy in the 1880s, even after gold was discovered in the eastern Transvaal but that was about to change. Last episode we heard about the early gold finds around Rustenburg which was part of the Witwatersrand Ward back in the late 1800s. Farms along the Ridge of White Waters had a fairly steady supply of water courtesy of the many springs that could be found along the ridge. Still, the freezing winters and the lack of wood meant the region was not in high demand despite water and fairly good soils. By 1886 dozens of diggers began arriving on the Witwatersrand, having heard reports of the earlier finds and growing tired of the limited options available in Pilgrims Rest. Others made their way from the south, from Kimberley or the coast, trekking on foot. Two of those were the George’s I mentioned in episode 284 .. George Harrison and George Walker, who walked from the Orange Free State who had decided to chance their luck in Barberton. If it were possible and…

Gold sends a shiver through the spine of the adventurer, the merest hint drives men to acts of extreme bravery, or stupidity. Moderate men and women throw off their cloaks of social anonymity and travel thousands of kilometers in arduous conditions just to lay their hands on a Gramm or two of the yellow treasure. Gold fever is a pandemic even in the modern world, although the price of gold fluctuates based on world geopolitics and economics. What is this allure? Callous investors of the modern era decry gold bugs and their passion, sneering at the pursuit of a commodity that appears to have very little going for it other than it’s scarcity. Despite these days of blockchain, ETFs, polymarket and AI investor hullabaloo, the physical value underpinning billions is bullion. By the 1880s, gold was more than something to lock away in a vault or fashion into a king's crown. It had become one of the world's essential industrial commodities, prized because it would not rust, tarnish or corrode, and because it could…

Welcome back to the History of South Africa podcast with me your host, Des Latham. Episode 283 and it’s 1885. And boy! Do we have a plethora of happenings to report. This is a year before the discovery of gold in the Transvaal, and global events are full of war, innovation, ethnic carnage, economic ups and downs, world firsts, medicine, and a dose of snot and trauma. The year 1885 opened with a strange and ironic trial by fire across England, balancing state-sanctioned progress against lawless destruction. In January, Irish rebels shattered the peace by detonating dynamite inside Westminster Hall and the Tower of London, raining literal fire and brimstone upon the ancient symbols of British authority. Amidst this chaotic violence, a far more orderly kind of incineration took place. That same year, the widowed painter Jeanette Pickersgill of London, a lady "well known in literary and scientific circles," became the first person to be legally cremated in England by the Cremation Society at Woking, Surrey. It…

There are many correlations and connections in this episode, so hang on tight as we toboggan down the slippery slopes of history bumping into all manner of bizarre and simultaneously heinous characters. Keeping in mind that we’re dealing with men and women of their age, nevertheless, the tale is one of intrigue, ego, treasure hunting, not to mention, madness. Belgium by 1882 was barely half a century old, becoming independent in 1830, ruled by King Leopold the Second, who sported a spade shaped beard and a giant colonial chip on his shoulder. Because he led a respectable European country, he was a king, but how he’d become a king was a sleight of hand. His father was a German prince, related to the British Royal family, Leopold the First. This trembling nation had been pasted together — an uneasy amalgam as Adam Hothschild writes — of French and Flemish, a version of Dutch spoken in northern Belgium. King Leopold the Second was fluent in French, German, like his father and later, English. He never bothered…

Cetshwayo had sought refuge in Nkandla as his arch enemy, Zibhebhu, turned his attention to the royalists living along the Zululand Coastal plain. Soon Somkhele of the Mphukunyoni and the emaNgweni people were hiding in the swamps and reed-beds of the sub-tropical bush along the Indian Ocean. Melmoth Osborne was the resident commissioner of Zululand and a committed foe of Cetshwayo’s royal line, a supporter of Zibhebhu. As Cetshwayo waited for the civil war to die down, he came to the conclusion that it was imperative to convince Melmoth of his right to rule. It was time to come out of hiding and to seek shelter from the commissioner — which he did under Henry Francis Fynn’s junior’s escort in October 1883. Cetshwayo was placed in a small house alongside his father’s old kwaGqikazi homestead where he could contemplate how far he’d fallen. There he remained until 8th February 1884. Had he lived longer, he would have heard that his old Nduna and councillor, Mnyamana, had escaped with his life after being…

On the afternoon of 10th January 1883, King Cetshwayo kaMpande climbed off a skiff and onto the beach at Port Dunford, surviving the heavy and powerful surf. The British had been using this stretch of desolate sand as their transport hub into Zululand, which is south of the modern harbour of Richard’s Bay. King Cetshwayo then stepped out of the wet boat onto the sand of Port Durnford, where he was formally met by British official Sir Theophilus Shepstone to begin his return to Zululand. Cetshwayo looked around — there was no welcoming committee of his people. Shepstone has purposely kept the date of the King’s return a secret, this after 3 years in exile. It was just the sort of thing at which Theophilus excelled — a thoughtful deviousness. The British brought him back to lead a detachment of 6th Dragoons to greet the old Zulu king, and to escort Cetshwayo back to Mthonjaneni above the the emaKhosini valley. Which he did. Shortly after they arrived in early January, Mandlakazi leader Zibhebu came to…

We’re up to the early 1880s where world events are intersecting in various ways with southern African events. The mere ratification of the Pretoria Convention in 1881 failed to bring peace and prosperity to South Africa. The frenzied speculation in diamond shares reached it’s height in 1881, and war expenditure had swelled the tide of fictitious prosperity which had flowed from Table Bay to Lydenburg. Now the troops and the glory departed, Natal after the pomp and ceremony of the Wolseley period, drifted into a political backwater — and yet clamoured for responsible government and an augmented imperial garrison. In the Cape, the overcapitalised diamond companies began to topple, and banks shortened credit and in 1882, the crash came. John Scanlen the Cape Prime Minister succumbed to what some called retrenchment mania and laid off judges amongst other members of the bureaucracy. Times were bad, and growing worse, with Phylloxera visiting the Western Cape vineyards, drought had smote the land and red-water…

In 1882, the German mathematician Ferdinand von Lindemann proved that π was transcendental: it cannot be reduced to a tidy equation, never captured inside the comfortable boundaries expected by mathematicians. For centuries mathematicians tried to “square the circle” — creating a perfect square with the same area as a circle using only classical tools. In 1882, they finally got their answer: impossible. π’s transcendence meant the problem itself can never be solved. π sits at the centre of order — wheels, planets, architecture, engineering — but does not obey the rules mathematicians thought would contain it. The more closely pi is examined, the more it slips beyond simple description. But pi also has beauty in it’s patterns. π — roughly 3.14 etc etc — is the hidden constant inside every circle: divide the distance around any circle by the distance across it, and written out as a decimal, it goes on forever without ever stopping and without ever falling into a repeating pattern. Southern Africa in the early…

When Cetshwayo kaMpande was captured after the Anglo-Zulu War, he was ferried to Cape Town and on to Robben Island. His countenance was one of dignity but that is difficult to maintain in the face of terrible sea-sickness. The Zulu king had made it be known that he was afraid of the sea, and his nervousness compounded the queasiness. He was also terribly sea-sick on the five day voyage from Port Durnford, modern day Richards’ Bay, and Simons Town. He and his five wives who’d joined him in captivity were ensconced in a hut that had been erected for him on the poop deck, from where he watched the activities on the shore for almost a week before he disembarked. As he observed all the ships, the developments on the coast, it became apparent that his attempt at fighting the powerful British empire had always been doomed. When he eventually stepped onto Cape turf, his appointed custodian Captain J Ruscombe Poole of the Royal Navy escorted the Zulu King from Simon’s Town. Like Nelson Mandela’s minders much later,…

Die Dorsland — the Thirstland — is part of the Kalahari that has an interesting history when it comes to pastoralists. The San didn’t call it the Thirstland, for them it wasn’t a barrier but part of a network of seasonal resource nodes. They would navigate the dry spans using sip-wells, inserting long, hollow reeds deep into the damp sand, use grass filters, and literally suck water up to store in hollowed-out ostrich eggshells buried along transit routes for future journeys. Around 2,000 to 2,500 years ago, a massive economic shift occurred when groups in northern Botswana acquired livestock, sheep and later cattle, transitioning from hunter-gatherers to pastoralists—becoming the Khoekhoe. Archaeological evidence indicates the Khoekhoe moved out of the northern Botswana/Zambezi region and split. One major migration route skirted the western edge of the Kalahari desert, moving down through modern-day Namibia and into the Northern and Western Cape with the Kalahari was the geographic pivot around which this…

Thousands of miners were streaming into the Transvaal by the third quarter of the 19th Century, a horde of avuncular independent-minded treasure hunters. In volume Two of the Cambridge History of South Africa, Stanley Trapido calls them the ragbag of humanity - Stanley who sadly is no longer with us, had the right to call miners whatever he wanted — having worked in Krugersdorp gold mines in order to pay for his History Degree at Wits University. But I’m sure the so-called ragbags and their moms would have taken offence. It is true that anarchy of a legendary level prevailed in many of the diggings, as it had in Griqualand West, these mining pioneers however were far more complex than a mob. The Diamond Fields of Kimberley were in the hands of large corporations by the early 1880s, men like JB Robinson, Cecil John Rhodes, Barney Barnato dominated Kimberley as the hole descended towards Hades’ — huge piles of capital was required to buy equipment to pump out the water, for the steam driven mine heads, to pay…

The hill of Doves — in isiZulu amaJuba means the place of many doves or pigeons. It became a place of violence and blood, and yet the catastrophic defeat of the British at Majuba was indeed to lead to peace. The doves would fly again albeit fleetingly. As you heard last episode, British commander General George Colley had been one of the casualties of the battle — Sir Evelyn Wood was now in charge of the empire’s army in the Transvaal. Or to be more accurate, in Natal attempting to enter the Transvaal. Colley was buried at Mount Prospect — the British base below Laings Nek in sight of Majuba — letters of condolence were sent to his wife Lady Colley by the Town councils of Pietermaritzburg and Durban .. and also by the Transvaal Boer Leaders. Colley had asked that his body should be allowed to remain where he fell on the battlefield, and so it was. His wife would have to travel to the Transvaal border to see where he lay. A state of war existed, the Boers continued to besiege all British garrisons in the…

It is not a stretch to say that the defeat by the British at Majuba was also the political birth of the Afrikaner people. While the Great Trek provided the origin story, Majuba provided the validation—the sense that their culture was not only distinct but divinely protected and militarily capable of standing against the greatest empire of the age. Before the main event, there was the small matter of Schuinshoogte. It was February 1881, and General Sir George Pomeroy Colley was in a bind. Boer patrols under Commander J. D. Weilbach were constantly harassing his communications with Newcastle. Colley was determined to act. The recent defeat at Laing’s Nek had energized the Boers, and he needed to clear the road between Newcastle and Mount Prospect. His reinforcements were finally on the way, but first, he had to keep those vital British supply lines open. Deputy President Paul Kruger sent a letter to George Pomeroy Colley on the 12th February 1881, requesting negotiations. “We desire to seek no conflict with…

Weather, some say, is fickle. Of course nature is just nature but when you’re on high ground, the mountains, and the weather moves in, the temperature drops in minutes and wind shifts. It is a dangerous place and that’s during mid-summer. Perhaps summer is the most dangerous time to be caught in a mountain storm, particularly in South Africa because there’s more moisture and freezing sleet and snow sweeps over the summit, overwhelming hikers in shorts and T-shirts. During January and February 1881, the weather along the Natal escarpment near Volksrust and Majuba was characterized by high rainfall, frequent thunderstorms, thick mist, and cold nights. This period was at the height of the summer rainy season, creating wet, muddy conditions that significantly impacted military operations during the First Boer War. The weather at times was bitter, just like the Boer sentiment. Laing’s Nek gravesite was desecrated in 1969 when Afrikaner Nationalists under cover of dark, blew up a large Cross that had been erected…

The British had instigated a war in the Transvaal which fired off in early 1881, but they had already ignited another flashpoint - in Basutoland. This was a fascinating conflict, and it has modern overtones. For the new British government of Sir William Gladstone, the fact they had stimulated a simultaneous slew of conflicts in South Africa was more than irksome, it was expensive and ill-timed. While Britain was dealing with a humiliating setback against the Boers, it was struggling to enforce authority in Basutoland—highlighting how imperial control was both stretched and inconsistent in southern Africa. Following Basutoland's transformation into a British dominion on 12 March 1868, it became the target of rapid westernization efforts by the Cape Colony administration. By 1879, the Cape Parliament had extended the Peace Preservation Act to Basutoland, with the aim of disarming the people of the territory. This did not go down well. Guns, like horses, were of immense significance in Basotho society. Most…

The approach by the English political parties of the time to the young Boer Republics was confused, and even contradictory. William Gladstone, a liberal, had succeeded in ousting the Tory’s under Benjamin Disraeli in his famous Midlothian Campaign of 1879 and 1880. In 1880 Gladstone formed his second ministry and almost immediately, the promises he’d made about foreswearing foreign wars were broken. There is a direct link between what was going on in South Africa and in Ireland. These two territories, so far apart geographically, featured as joint threats in the English mind of the time. The most direct link is Gladstone himself. He had criticized the annexation of the Transvaal during his Midlothian Campaign, but once in power, he hesitated to reverse British policy, fearing a domino effect where weakness in Pretoria would lead to revolution in Dublin. By 1880, the Irish Nationalists began to see the Boers not just as fellow farmers, but as fellow victims of British coercion. This Irish link flourished…

The Bapedi have a rich and textured history, as with most of South Africa’s past, where religion and tradition are entwined to create a consciousness of life that is attractive to the naturally curious. Today, part of Limpopo Province bushveld contains private game parks with Bapedi and other African names — including Moya which has three meanings. It is used for wind, or breath, or the soul, roughly translated. It is something they say which cannot be seen, but can be heard. When a sick person wheezes, you know they’re alive, because you can hear their soul, it has not departed. At night, when there is stillness, and you pick up the faint sounds of someone speaking, and upon investigation you find noone, then you know it is the soul of a dead person. Parts of your body are Moya, the lungs, blood, heart, liver, kidneys, and sex organs, your head and your hair. It is also these parts which are mostly associated with or susceptible to, disease. Your Moya is like your iris, or your fingerprint, there is noone…

There is something magical about mountain passes, weaving through majesty, each corner beckoning a driver like a formidable and compelling saga, muffled in mist or bright in the sunshine. Imaginations are fired and children go quiet as the ravines plunge beside the vehicle, timeless in their elegance, conquered only by the blast of dynamite or the steady chipping of picks. There is an old Chinese saying, Yào xiàng fù, xiān xiū lù” If you want to get rich, first build a road.” British engineers in the second half of the 19th Century recognized that they possessed an expertise that was in short supply elsewhere, and were prepared to travel abroard in large numbers in order to provide it. So it is with great fanfare and the blasting of many a bugle to announce that South Africa’s greatest road engineer was born in Graaff-Reinet. The dramatic saga of how roads were built in South Africa is a forgotten story of plunging horses, wagons somersaulting, with dreamers armed with theodolites or sometimes, only their…

Cornelius Vijn had made a few bad decisions in his life as we all do at some point. Born in Holland in 1856, he made his way to Natal in 1874 where he rapidly learned both English and isiZulu. That wasn’t necessarily a bad decision. During his childhood, however, he’d suffered an accident, he was run over by a wagon — the wheel shattered his leg, it healed badly and from then on he walked with a limp. He had lived in Natal for over 4 years before setting out from New Guelderland with six Zulu drivers and assistants, sixteen oxen, and a wagon loaded with woollen, baize and cotton blankets, picks, knives, saddles bridles and beads. Just to put his location into perspective, New Guelderland is a few kilometers north of KwaDukuza aka Stanger. Cornelius Vijn’s destination — Zululand. This was a miscalculation because his journey began October 1879 on the eve of the Anglo-Zulu war. Tension had been rising for months, and most whites had fled the territory. Vijn was determined to go the other way. He sensed he…

As the British tried to wrap up their war against the Zulu in South Africa, further afield the happy sound of a baby being born could be heard in Germany. Not just any baby. Albert Einstein was born at 11.30 in the morning on March 14, 1879 in Ulm. His birth was not without drama; his family initially worried about his development because the back of his head was unusually large, and his grandmother feared he would have delayed development based on the sound of his cry. His mother Pauline was deeply concerned when Albert didn't start talking until he was three. Then when he started speaking, he had a habit of repeating sentences to himself, which led the family maid to nickname him "Der Depperte" (the dopey one). When Albert was five and sick in bed, his father Hermann gave him a magnetic compass. This invisible force fascinated Albert and is often cited as the spark for his lifelong obsession with physics. A compass is what the British surveyors carried, so too did some Boers of the Wakkerstroom District.…

The last quarter of the 19th Century was in some ways, like the first quarter of the 21st Century - full of tone-deaf business barons gambling building vast riches — financing politicians and in accelerating the planet towards world wars. There are ripples in the timeverse, all the way to now, because the latest empire has started a war that it cannot end. The infinite rule of war is do not start a war you cannot finish — British back in 1879 set off a whole host of pain for itself by invading Zululand because the Boers of the Transvaal were flexing. First, however, was the small matter of trying to Crush the Zulu empire. Not only had the British suffered sharp reverses at Hlobane and, most dramatically, at Isandlwana, but Lieutenant-Colonel Pearson’s column had now been shut up in Eshowe for nearly two months. At first the invasion had been greeted in Britain with confidence and patriotic support, yet that mood began to shift as the scale of the setbacks became clear and questions were asked about Lord…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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…

It’s the 23rd January 1879, one of the most momentous days in South African history has passed, and the ripple effect will be felt across the world. For missionary Otto Witt it was a time of particular terror. He had fled his mission station, Rorke’s Drift, and now it was smashed to bits, the house which had doubled up as a hospital burned to the ground, the main warehouse which had been his church, broken, bloody. Witt had fled the day before and sought out his wife and children who he’d sent on to Msinga once it became apparent the British were going to invade Zululand. Witt had lost his way up the Biggarsberg escarpment on the terrifying night of the 22nd January, and staggered into the Gordon Memorial Mission at Msinga the next morning - but his wife Elin and their 3 young children had already left. He didn’t know this — merely that she wasn’t there. Elin had been told by refugees streaming away from Isandlwana that Otto had been killed at Rorke’s Drift. So both believed the other dead. The family spent…

Episode 258 Rorke’s Drift part two. It’s important to listen to Episode 257 because that sets everything up for this episode - there’s too much to repeat particularly in the layout of the buildings which were fully described in Episode 257. There were around 330 British and Natal Native Contingement troops marooned at Rorke’s Drift, about to be attacked by 4000 Zulu warriors. Approaching rapidly, the reserve amabutho of the Zulu army, led by Prince Dabulamanzi - a man who was driven by pride and personal valor — loyal to his king and brave, yet impulsive compared with Cetshwayo kaMpande’s politics of restraint. Dabulamanzi’s name means the one who conquers waters, and most apt because he had decided to lead the warriors across the Mzinyathi River into Natal. A literal crossing and a metaphorical defiance. Zulu oral tradition refers to this battle as Shiyane by the way, or kwaJimu, Jims land after Jim Rorke who build the trading store. It was 4pm, January 22nd 1879. The barricades were still going up the…

Rorke’s Drift was a battle that Cetshwayo kaMpande did not want, because it took place on the western bank of the Mzinyathi or Buffalo River — inside Natal. The British had been routed at Isandlwana by the main Zulu army, regiments who’s names are still venerated by oral historians today, the uKhandempemvu, uNokhenke, uDududu, iMbube, iSanqu, the uMbonambi, iNgobamakhosi. The men of the uThulwana, iNdlondlo, iNluyengwe, uDloko amabitho had headed northwest during the battle to cut off Chelmsford’s escape route while the main army went to work evicerating Durnford’s men. The commanders of the main army, Ntswingwayo kaMahole and Mavumengwana kaNdlela turned back to oNdini - realising that they had both good and bad news. The good news - Chelmsford’s central column had been crushed at Isandlwana, the bad news - it had cost the Zulu main army dearly perhaps as many as 2000 warriors - along with number of his most venerated indunas and isinkhosi. But things were not over in this corner of the British empire,…

Lord Chelmsford who had scurried off to the east in support of Major Dartnell only made it back to the slopes of Isandlwana at dusk on the day of 22nd January 1879. As the nervous British soldiers advanced, they could see dense masses of the Zulus retiring with herds of cattle and their wagons up on the skyline to their right. About 800 metres from the Isandlwana battle site, they stopped and formed into a line. The guns were in the centre on the road, with three companies of British infantry, a Natal Native Contingent battalion and a portion of cavalry on each flank. The mounted police were in reserve. Chelmsford ordered the guns to fire on the nek of Isandlwana, while Major Wilsone Black advanced up the right to seize a koppie overlooking the battlefield that the British named Black’s Koppie. IT was about 7pm. Black signalled the main force to advance, and Captain Harford who marched up with the 2/3rd NNC noticed the grass had been trampled flat and smooth by the size of the Zulu army. Soon they began to…

When we ended last episode a mounted patrol had stumbled on the main Zulu army of twenty thousand men which had which had hunkered down in the Ngwebeni Valley north east of Isandlwana. The British had been conducting patrols both north and south of the sphinx shaped mountain, and had been following a group of Zulu who were foraging mielies and cattle for the huge army. Looking down on this huge force, the shocked British patrol had opened fire on the warriors from their vantage point and galloped away to warn Lieutenant Colonel Pulleine back at Isandlwana about the impending threat. The effect of the fusillade on the Zulu warriors was instantaneous. Their discipline, shattered. Huddled in silence for hours they had been informed that the day of the attack would come on Thursday 23rd January, because the 22nd was the first day of the new moon - the day of the dead moon — the unmyuama or blackness when dark spiritual forces lurked close to the fragile membrane which separated the living and the dead. None of…

The morning of January 22, 1879, dawned with a deceptive, stillness across Zululand masking the fact that over 45,000 men were in motion across a 200 kilometer front, each group operating in a vacuum of information that would, by sunset, shatter the British Victorian ego. At the coast, Colonel Charles Pearson’s Column No. 1 represented the textbook invasion. His force was a heavy, industrial machine led by the 3rd Foot regiment, the Buffs, along with the 99th Regiment, and the Naval Brigade dragging their heavy Gatling guns and artillery. By 5:00 AM, the 5000 strong column was already a dusty serpent stretching more than 8 kilometers back toward the Tugela River. Pearson’s scouts were a mix of the Natal Native Contingent and European volunteers who pushed through the tall grass toward the Nyezane River. They were being observed on Wombane mountain by the uDududu, iMbube, and isigQu regiments - 6,000 warriors under the command of Godide kaNdlela. Wombande mountain lay on the wagon trail between Gingingdlovu…

Episode 253 - The order of Battle for Isandlwana and Nyezane as ‘ukuni’ Wood Heads North Three separate British columns are inside Zululand and things are hotting up — and not just because of the steamy summer temperatures. In the last few episodes I’ve concentrated on General Chelmsford’ and Colonel Glynn’s operations in the centre, second Column, as they made their way over the Mzinyathi River across from Rorke’s Drift - the centre of the British Invasion of Zululand. This episode we’ll wrap up what was going on in other sectors, further south near the coast, and further north near the Ncome - Blood River, and along the high ground there towards the Phongola River. The First column under Colonel Charles Pearson had entered Zululand across the lower Thukela on the 12th January and was lumbering towards Eshowe, en route to meet up with Chelmsford’s Column Two near Ondini prior to the final assault on King Cetshwayo kaMpande’s headquarters. When the main Zulu army had set off from the ritual jumping off point…

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,…

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…

First a quick note which the marketing weasel ordered me to announce. This week I received an email from Apple which read: "We’re thrilled to share some incredible news: History of South Africa podcast has been selected by our editors as one of Apple Podcasts' Best Shows of 2025! Congratulations on this fantastic achievement and for creating one of the most compelling shows of the year. We’re so excited to spotlight your work.” So to all the listeners and my supporters, for all your wonderful comments and suggestions, may we continue to survive the present in order to understand the past. 250 is what is known in maths as a 5-smooth number - none of its prime factors are greater than five. Factor 250 that is 250 ÷ 2 = 125 and 125 = 5 × 5 × 5. So the Prime Factors are all less than five. Strange but true. Culturally 250 is fascinating too - in Mandarin slang, Chinese, the number 250 pronounced er bai wu is an insult meaning idiot or simpleton. Which is apt, because a certain American president number 47 who is…

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…

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…