Zulu king is crowned

 Stanley - Thursday

A year ago last March, King Goodwill Zwelithini of the Zulu nation died after spending just over fifty years on the throne. He was well respected, not only in his own right, but also as a descendent of the great King Cetshwayo kaMpande, who defeated the British forces at Isandhlwana in 1879.

King Goodwill Zwelithini in ceremonial attire

The king's "Amabutho" warriors in traditional leopard skin regalia

Last Saturday, the new king, Misuzulu ka Zwelithini, was crowned with great pomp and ceremony and not a little controversy.

It is hardly surprising that there were other contenders to the throne since Goodwill had six wives and twenty-eight children. In terms of hierarchy, Goodwill's third wife, the late Queen Mantfombi Dlamini-Zulu, was on top of the pecking order since she also hailed from royalty. Her father was the late King Sobhuza II of Eswatini (Swaziland to those who struggle to keep up with the ever-changing map of Africa) and her brother, King Mswati III, is the reigning king of Eswatini.

Queen Mantfombi Dlamini-Zulu

When King Goodwill Zwelithini died, Mantfombi Dlamini-Zulu was appointed regent for the three months of mourning, after which the next king would be chosen. However, she died only a month later midst allegations of poisoning.

The battle for the throne has been raging for the past year, with several of King Misuzulu's brothers and half brothers claiming the throne. 

Last November, for example, the king's first-born son, Prince Lethukuthula, died in mysterious circumstances. The police believe his death to be a homicide.

However, in March this year, President Ramaphosa of South Africa formally recognised Misuzulu as the rightful heir to the throne. 

One brother immediately challenged this in court, but this was dismissed.

Then, just a week before Misuzulu's traditional coronation, a small group within the royal family announced that another one of Misuzulu's half-brothers was the new king. That went nowhere.

Then three of Misuzulu's brothers announced that another brother should be the king because he had had the closest relationship with the late king. A no go also.

And finally, on the day of the coronation, two of Misuzulu's half-sisters file a motion in court to halt the coronation because they claimed that Queen Mantfombi Dlamini-Zulu's will had been forged. Not successful.

Apparently part of the original marriage contract beween Goodwill Zwelithini and Mantfombi Dlamini-Zulu stipulated that her first born would be the heir to the throne. Her will also stipulated that this agreement be honoured.

Anyway, to some extent the dust has settled, and I'm pleased to report that Misuzulu is now King Misuzulu ka Zwelithini and will be formally crowned in September. 

The new king

Last week's ceremony was the traditional investiture where thousands of people gathered at KwaKhangelamankengane Palace. There he invoked the ancestors before being announced as the new king to both the living and the dead.

Celebrating

Celebrating

Celebrating

King Misuzulu ka Zwelithini will be forty-eight next month. He was educated in South Africa, then Jacksonville University in the United States. He is married with two wives and three sons. 

Long live the king.

When did South Africa's history begin?

Jan van Riebeeck

When I grew up, I was taught that South African history started with the arrival of Johan Anthonisz "Jan" van Riebeeck in early April 1652.  His charge by the Dutch East India Company (DEIC – or as the Dutch called it, Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie - VOC) was to set up a way-station to supply passing company ships with fresh produce and water.  What we learnt about pre-Van Riebeeck southern Africa could have been written (in tiny letters) on a postage stamp.  Namely:

Van Riebeeck arrives in Table Bay

In 1488, Bartolomeu Dias sailed around the Cape, which opened up the possibility of trade with the east without going overland.

In 1497, Vasco da Gama sailed around the Cape to open up the trade route.

In 1503, Antonio de Saldanha named the area around what is now known as Cape Town as “Agoada do Saldanha” – The watering place of Saldanha.  (People do like to name places after themselves.)

Jan van Riebeeck

(You can read why South Africa never became a Portuguese colony at http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1990338437877873686#editor/target=post;postID=5491224666417113269)

In 1620, Englishman, Humphrey Fitzherbert claimed the area around Cape Town for King James.  King James wasn’t interested.

Before the Europeans came, there was an indigenous population of Khoikhoi people, sometimes called Hottentots, living in the area around Table Mountain.

Van Riebeeck immediately set about to build a fortification to protect the Dutch from the Khoikhoi, as well as planting vegetables and fruit and acquiring meat through barter or hunting.  It is also no coincidence that a few months after he arrived, England and Holland had gone to war, and the DEIC wanted to protect its investment.

Van Riebeeck and men meet Khoikhoi

He also planted a Wild Almond hedge around the settlement, some of which is still growing in the National Botanical Gardens at Kirstenbosch.  I have to say that it would be very difficult to crawl through it.  Overall, he was a good Commander of the Cape for the DEIC, which is not surprising that he was on his best behaviour, since he was probably lucky to get the post as he had been caught trading for his own account when he headed the DEIC trading post in Tonkin, Vietnam.

After naming several small villages after himself, Riebeeck’s Kasteel and Riebeeck Wes, he left the Cape in 1662 after two five-year contracts, and eventually died in what is now Jakarta in 1667.

Shaka kaSenzangakhona

What really interests me about Van Riebeeck is that his arrival is, or was, regarded as when history started in South Africa.  And the only reason for that is that he was a bureaucrat.  He kept records and diaries, so we know what happened and when.  There are no written or even oral records of the Khoikhoi’s history, so their history is disregarded.  Reminds me of Columbus ‘discovering’ America.

We only know about the earlier visits to the Cape by Europeans because they too were bureaucrats, keeping sailing logs and diaries and records.

None of the indigenous peoples of southern Africa have similar written records and, for the most part, oral records are sketchy at best.  We know about the great Zulu or Mtethwa chiefs, such as Dingiswayo or Shaka or Ceteswayo, because of European records, not indigenous ones.

Khoi man

And we know nothing of the histories or stories of the Khoikhoi or KhoiSan peoples.  And we probably will never find out, other than through speculations of anthropologists.

All I hope is that today’s South African children are taught a more indigenous perspective of their country’s history, although I am not entirely sure how it could be done.

Stan - Thursday

Cows

I’ve never been into cows.  They’re stupid and often wander onto the road at night.  And also in the day.

 

I can remember when I was a kid, we were returning from our annual holiday at Umkomaas, a sleepy coastal town, on the Indian Ocean.  The traffic was heavy, and we were probably going at barely more than a walking pace.  A herd of cows was ambling alongside the main road from Durban to Johannesburg, when one turned in front of our car.  There was no chance of stopping.  We hit it.  The cow shook its head, spat out a few teeth and some blood, and wandered off.  Our car had the equivalent of thousands of dollars of damage.

Recently I’ve been paying more attention to cows, not only because of my lobola blog here two weeks ago, but also because of a type of cow found in southern Africa, called an Nguni cow.  Not only are they beautiful, but there is a fascinating story about them.

There are two species of cattle in the world: Bos taurus, which include the brown-and-black breeds such as Jersey and Holstein; and Bos indicus, found mainly in India and Africa, which include more unusual creatures such as Zebu, Sanga and Nguni cattle, which typically have enormous horns and magnificent hides.

The Nguni is a hardy breed, well adapted to the vagaries of nature in the areas of Africa where it is found.  It is a good breeder, heat and disease resistant, and an excellent forager, all of which explain its popularity.

However it is the relationship between these cows and the Zulu people that fascinates me.  Nguni cows are an intrinsic part of Zulu culture, playing an important social, spiritual, and even political role.  The oral tradition of the Zulus is rich in references to the Nguni cattle, which pop up in stories, proverbs, and mythology.

What has intrigued me most of all is how this oral tradition has led to the most amazing names that the Zulus have given to the various skins.  isiZulu is a beautiful language, richly onomatopoeic, and very descriptive. Here are some examples of names given to different types of Nguni cows:

imatshoNgoye – the stones of the Ngoye forest

inasenezimbukane – the flies in the buttermilk

inkampu – of cutting in two

inkorno – the beast which is houses

engabantubegulile – like old people

imaqandakahuye – the eggs of the lark

inala – abundance

Other names for which I was not able to find photos are:

The gaps between the branches of the trees silhouetted against the sky – a deeply dappled animal

The hornbill takes to flight – a dark beast that shows a flash of white beneath its flank when it walks

What stabs the rain – the upright points of a young steer’s horns

Needless to say, Nguni skins are now sought after as floor coverings or even wall hangings.  I have to say I prefer seeing an Nguni hide on the floor rather than that of a lion or polar bear - there’s much less ego involved.

So next time you see a cow – any cow – think of a phrase that describes the patterns on its hide – the more descriptive the better!

Stan – Thursday

PS. For a full appreciation of the relationship between the Zulus and the Nguni cattle, you should read The Abundant Herds: A Celebration of the Nguni Cattle of the Zulu People, by Marquerite Poland and David Hammond-Tooke, illustrated by Leigh Voigt.  Fernwood Press

PPS. Saying isiZulu words are difficult to pronounce for Westerners.  The language is pretty phonetic, but there are two important differences:  an 'e' at the end of a word is pronounced.  It sounds like 'eh'.  The 'q' has no equivalent in English.  It is one of several clicks.  You can make the sound by putting the tip of your tongue on the curve of your hard palate and pulling it away quickly.  It should sound somewhat like a champagne cork popping or a cork being pulled out of a wine bottle.  There'll be a test at Bouchercon.

The Second Belly of the Cow

When I was about 10, a group of my friends and I went, under the supervision of one of my teachers, to help build a church and clinic in the middle of Zululand.  The place was Isandlwana (sometimes spelt Isandhlwana).  The word means “The Second Stomach of the Cow” in Zulu because of its shape.

Isandlwana Hill

This innocuous trip impacted the rest of my life.

The first impact was that I came to realize that horses and I were not destined to get along.  At the little mission station there was an old church horse.  I was told that we could take it to the local shop about a mile or so away.  I had never been on a horse before, but that did not worry me since the horse was described as “docile”.  It would look after me.  Once mounted, the first problem surfaced.  The horse had no intention of leaving the mission.  I shook the reins, slapped the horse on the side, and tried to spur it on (sans spurs, of course).  I imagined that I was a cowboy, as my grandfather had been in Calgary at the end of the 19th century.  To no avail.  Eventually an old Zulu gentleman offered to lead the horse.  So a small group of us headed to the shop, probably for a cold drink.  I remember that we kids took turns in riding the nag.

Shopping completed, I mounted the steed and turned it towards the distant mission station.  As much as the horse had been reluctant to leave the mission, it now wanted to be back.  So off it took at what seemed to me to be a full gallop – probably a mild trot.  I clung for dear life to the reins, the neck, the saddle for the duration of the journey.  Reaching the gate of its little paddock, the horse stopped abruptly, and, of course, I didn’t.  Fortunately I was not hurt as I hit the sandy ground. 

That’s enough of horses for me, I thought.  Forever.

However, that was not to be the case.  A couple of days later, we planned a day trip to Rorke’s Drift – the location of one of the most famous battles in British military history, where 139 men fought off a 4000-strong Zulu army (see 1964 Michael Caine movie  ZULU).  Eleven Victoria Crosses (the highest British award for bravery) were awarded – more than in any other battle in British military history.  The horse was to accompany us, mainly to carry our picnic supplies, but also to be ridden if we wanted.  As I had already experienced the pleasures of riding, I offered to hold the horse while a friend of mine mounted.  The horse obviously sensed my disdain for its abilities and promptly stood on my sandled foot.  It was big, and I was little.  Ow.  Fortunately no bones were broken.

I then understood where the term “nightmares” comes from - and that is the closest I've been to horses since.

Cairns and memorials to British soldiers

The second implications of this trip to Zululand was much deeper.  Isandlwana was the site of the worst defeat the British Army had ever suffered at the hands of a “native” army.  All around the hill we saw cairns of white stones, marking the spots where piles of bodies and bones of dead British soldiers were later found.  As we kids played in the dry river courses (we call them “dongas”), we found nails from ammunition boxes, buttons from uniforms, and so on.  For a boy with an active imagination it was fertile ground for countless dreams of heroism.  And coming from a family most of whose roots were from Britain, I had grown up listening to stories of gallantry in battle.

So I started to read about the Zulu Wars, as they were called.  It didn’t take me long to suspect that there was more than one truth.  Most of our history books depicted the Zulus as aggressive warriors who threatened the White settlers, and who needed to be punished.  But the more I read, the more I believed that the British were the aggressors.  Not only did they annex huge tracts of land, but they were intent (in about 1876) on imposing a Canadian-like federation under British rule throughout southern Africa, including on two Boer republics and on all the native tribes.

King Cetshwayo

The Zulu Kingdom under King Cetshwayo wanted to negotiate a settlement in which the Zulus retained their traditional lands.  But the British administrators wanted to dismantle the kingdom and diffuse the king’s power, so they sent Cetshwayo an ultimatum that they knew he couldn’t agree to.  When the deadline passed, the British army under Lord Chelmsford was sent in.

Lord Chelmsford

I’m sure Chelmsford must have thought the campaign was going to be a stroll in the park.  He left part of his force camped at Isandlwana, while he took another column to outflank the Zulu army.  What he didn’t realize is that the Zulus he was following were not the main fighting force, but a diversionary one.  The main army of about 20,000 warriors armed only with stabbing spears (assegais), clubs (knobkieries), and cowhide shields had used the terrain to encamp only a few miles from Isandlwana.  On the morning of 22^nd January 1879 they attacked the British using its traditional , eventually annihilating them.  A few survivors made it back to Rorke’s Drift.

Zulu soldiers

I believe that the defeat at Isandlwana so shocked the British that to regain their honour their politicians decided they had to defeat the Zulus decisively (sounds familiar?).  When they attacked Zululand for the second time, the army did not make the same mistakes and used superior numbers and technology to inflict defeat and break up the Zulu kingdom.

Memorial to Zulu dead

My reading about "the second belly of the cow" was very influential in how I think today.  It taught me that what we read about history is almost always biased – that we need to listen to both sides of any story.  More importantly, even though I was growing up in apartheid South Africa, it opened my eyes to trying to see South Africa through the eyes of those who were not White.  And what I saw was not pleasant.  And that in turn taught me about prejudice and the harm it does.

So, thank you, Lord Chelmsford.  Without you and your blunders I may not have learned so much about the human condition so early in life.

Stan - Thursday