Shadows in the Grass

by Beverley Harper

  ‘What happens if you go there uninvited?’

  ‘It is taken as a sign that you mean harm. You would be killed.’

  ‘That sounds a bit harsh.’

  Mister David nodded. ‘To you, maybe. I do not know why you should find it so. We learn these things as small boys. Only the foolish or unfortunate invite death, unless you are one of our father’s personal attendants. Then it would be an honour to die with him.’

  ‘You mean when a king dies his servants are killed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Egyptians had once done something similar. Dallas wondered if the custom could have come south in ancient times. There was little point in asking Mister David. It was clear that Zulus accepted tribal authority without question. They never challenged tradition, simply went along with it. He asked another question. ‘If I met your current ruler, King Mpande, the man you call father, how should I behave? It would be easy for me to do something wrong.’

  Mister David laughed. ‘Our father understands that white people are not the same as us. He would treat you differently.’

  ‘How?’

  The driver thought for a while, then gave a comparison. ‘If you were invited to eat with our father you would sit with him, talk, and be treated as if you, yourself, were a king. I must lie at his feet and accept food without touching it with my hands. An inceku would feed me.’

  ‘Inceku?’

  ‘One of the servants who helps prepare our father’s food.’

  ‘What else can’t you do?’

  ‘I may not be seen to sneeze, cough or spit while our father is eating, even if I am not in the isigodlo. Should our father send word that he wishes to see me, I must approach so that my head is below his. When I leave, I must do so on my knees, facing our father. No Zulu may laugh in the isigodlo.’

  ‘Would that apply to me?’

  Mister David shrugged. ‘I think you would be forgiven for not understanding our customs.’

  Dallas nodded slowly.

  ‘The king is not so strict all the time. In periods of hardship people turn to our father for cattle and grain. These are given freely, for although very wealthy, he holds everything for his people not for himself.’

  ‘Even so, it seems as though the king can order your death for just about anything.’

  ‘That is right. A strong king makes his people strong too. Only the weak allows disrespect to go unpunished.’

  Sometimes Will’s and Logan’s straightforward explanations were preferable to Mister David’s more convoluted answers. The Zulu had a tendency to rattle off unfamiliar names of people and places which were near impossible to remember. Succession to Mpande’s throne was one subject where Dallas definitely preferred a simple answer.

  He’d noticed that one topic seemed to dominate whenever white men gathered and their conversation turned to Zulu matters. With Mpande’s health failing, his son, Cetshwayo, was generally accepted as the rightful heir to his throne. Speculation on the ramifications of this event, both for Zulus themselves and white settlers, ranged from optimistic to dire predictions of war.

  Cetshwayo was a man in his mid-forties who had long believed his destiny lay in becoming fourth king of the Zulus. To achieve this, he knew that a powerful ally would not go astray. Both Boers and the British coveted the fertile country known as Zululand. The Boers viewed Zulus as potential slaves, a bonus when they could settle the area. Britain, with similar aspirations, also needed naval supremacy in the Indian Ocean. This could only be secured if the interior, beyond Zululand’s coastal strip, remained orderly and manageable. Cetshwayo, though unsophisticated and illiterate, understood that hostility between the Boers and British could be used to his own advantage. He was playing one against the other.

  Depending on their political leanings, Europeans had varying opinions about Cetshwayo. Some argued that the fourth king would honour his father’s ceding of land east of Blood River to the Transvaal Boers. Others predicted he wouldn’t, foreshadowing conflict with the Zulus, possibly even a spill over to all-out confrontation between the Boers and British. Many more said that all Cetshwayo wanted was to rule his own people. Logan believed that the dictum laid down by Shaka, the founding father and first king of the Zulus, was still fully enforced – that the ultimate duty of Zulu men was to protect their nation – and that this would ensure trouble of some kind.

  ‘Look, they’re warlike enough as it is,’ he was fond of saying. ‘How would you feel if diversions like marriage were outlawed until you reached forty or were granted special dispensation from the king? In my view, enforced celibacy makes matters worse. Any man under forty who receives permission to marry has earned that privilege through blooding his spear in battle. They’ll fight at the drop of a hat just so they can take a wife or two. Trouble is coming, you mark my words.’

  All this was very interesting and Dallas wanted to know more. Asking Mister David brought the inevitable realisation that nothing was that easy, particularly if it were to do with the Zulus. Listening to the more simplistic understanding achieved by most Europeans was at least a way to establish an initial comprehension of the situation. Even then, Dallas battled with things that the old hands accepted as perfectly normal. The guts of the tale, as far as he could tell, was mayhem, murder, betrayal and greed – not all that different from European history, simply more direct in its savagery. And at every twist and turn in the story were accounts of Dutch or British treachery.

  ‘There’s only one common denominator,’ Logan pronounced. ‘Land.’

  For a change, Will agreed. ‘Aye. Same as anywhere.’

  Logan elaborated. ‘Shaka formed the Zulu nation to protect its clans from other tribes intent on taking territories traditionally held by them. A noble cause with practical reasons. No land, no food. Petty skirmishes had been going on for centuries. All Shaka did was unite related clans against a common enemy so making them stronger and virtually impossible to conquer. He had no quarrel with white men. The British were way down in the Cape. Dutch settlers remained within the Cape Colony under British protection. Shaka didn’t see either as any kind of threat. Britain was kept busy defending the Cape against raiding tribes in the south. Shaka had his work cut out keeping Zululand free of traditional enemies from the north. Neither encroached on the other so Shaka was perfectly happy to ignore any strange white foreigners. Then the fun started. In 1824, two Englishmen landed near Durban and met with Shaka. They tricked him. The Zulu king thought he was signing a document giving permission for a trading settlement but in fact he had ceded outright title to Port Natal and 3500 square miles of surrounding land. It was immediately proclaimed British territory. A few settlers drifted in and by 1835 they had renamed the place Durban. Britain’s Governor of the Cape Colony wasn’t all that interested in extending his responsibilities into Natal and the new territory was initially left to fend for itself.’

  ‘Did Shaka retaliate?’ Dallas was trying to remember what, if anything, he’d been taught at school about those earlier days.

  ‘No. Even though he’d been tricked, Shaka wasn’t worried by a handful of settlers in a part of the country that was not strategically important. He never lived to see the consequences of his generosity. Four years later Shaka was murdered by his half-brother, Dingane. The new king remained amiably disposed towards the British, more interested in lording over his own people than anything else. Ruthless discipline and the endless warring of Shaka’s day had taken their toll and Zulus welcomed the chance to rest and recover. Durban grew and Dingane seemed perfectly happy to allow it.’ Logan shrugged. ‘Nothing lasts forever.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Those who live by blood and violence need the protocol of tension or their warlike tendencies will find other outlets. The breakdown of discipline is what happened. Mischief, disregard for a king they did not respect, disobedience in the ranks set off reprisal. Dingane realised, too late, that his people needed to be ruled with an iron fist. To compensate, he overreacted, mu
rdering anyone who disagreed with him, including all but one of his own brothers.’

  ‘And since he’s still alive, that would have to be Mpande?’ Dallas ventured.

  ‘Correct. Mpande was considered no threat for the simple reason that they believed him to be mentally feeble.’ Logan paused to gather his thoughts.

  Will leapt into the silence. ‘Bloody Boers ruined it. Damned Dutchmen weren’t satisfied living under the British. If it hadn’t been for them –’

  ‘Oh, do be quiet,’ Logan snapped. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  Will shrugged, smiled and fell obediently silent.

  ‘In a way, he’s right,’ Logan conceded. ‘The Boers wanted to govern themselves so they started trekking north. Most made for the Orange Free State and the Transvaal but a small group, led by a man called Piet Retief, came over the Drakensberg Mountains and approached Dingane for permission to settle. Retief had about fifteen men with him. Dingane didn’t think so few would present a problem.’

  ‘But it was British territory,’ Dallas commented.

  ‘Not really. North of the Thukela wasn’t. And that’s what the trekkers wanted. You see, the Boers had started thinking of Zululand as the Promised Land. They were eager to farm there. At around the same time Dingane was starting to find fault with the British. He wanted guns so his impi could finish off their enemies once and for all. Britain remained adamant that no native force was to be armed. When Retief and his small band of men asked for land, Dingane agreed. He thought they might provide him with rifles. It didn’t worry him that it was the same land he’d previously granted to a handful of Englishmen.’ Logan broke off, smiling at Dallas’s confusion. ‘I know. At times the Zulus seem childlike in their simplistic manner of doing things. At others, they appear to go out of their way to complicate matters. Don’t even try to liken it to our ways.

  ‘You have to understand that Zulus have a different way of thinking. All land is owned by the king. He grants its use to others but if they don’t work it, or he’s fallen out with them for some reason, he’ll let somebody else take over. It was like that with Retief. Dingane wanted proof of his friendship and good intentions. All the Boers had to do for land was retrieve cattle stolen by enemy raiders from further north and driven out of Zulu territory.’

  ‘What happened?’ Dallas asked, fascinated.

  ‘Retief agreed and set off. Unfortunately, hundreds of impatient trekkers decided not to wait and without Dingane’s permission, set themselves up inside Zululand. Although greatly offended, the king decided to wait for Retief to return. And here, my young friend, comes a classic example of misunderstanding.’

  Dallas waited in silence for Logan to continue.

  ‘The Boer trekkers had insulted a Zulu king. Not a good idea, I’m afraid. In good faith, he had granted certain land in return for a favour. Instead of a few whites gratefully accepting what was generously given by Dingane, he now had hundreds, with more arriving each day, taking anything they fancied. Understandably, the man felt betrayed and was furious.’

  ‘And Retief?’ Dallas prompted impatiently.

  ‘He had no idea how much he’d offended Dingane. He found the cattle and drove them back into Zululand. Then, instead of simply returning them with no fuss, he took seventy-one men with him to the king’s kraal. Retief believed that a show of force would impress. It had quite the opposite effect. The Boers broke every rule in the book. They brought the cattle back, then put on a military display for the king’s benefit. Regrettably for Retief, the Zulus use fire and smoke in certain of their ceremonies. With Piet and his men charging around on their horses and firing at will into the air, gunpowder smoke lingered in the king’s kraal. The cordite smell made Dingane suspect some kind of witchcraft. The Boers galloped right round the kraal, symbolically surrounding it. This was taken as aggression. Retief should have known better.’

  ‘How was he supposed to know?’

  ‘Thomas Halstead was with him as an interpreter, a man experienced in native affairs. He’d witnessed the results of European ignorance before and must have warned against such a display.’

  ‘Retief sounds like a fairly arrogant individual.’

  ‘Probably was. That wouldn’t have worried Dingane. The king understood arrogance, even admired it. No, the real undoing of Retief was the way he refused to arm the Zulus. Dingane’s request was a serious one and should have been taken that way. Instead, Retief laughed.’

  ‘And you’re not supposed to laugh in the isigodlo.’

  Logan raised eyebrows. ‘Correct. Though in this case he might have been forgiven if he hadn’t tugged at his beard. The implication was not lost on Dingane. Retief was telling him that only a foolish child would arm the Zulus. Three days later, after lavish entertaining of Retief and his men with singing, dancing and feasting, the Boers were seized and taken to kwaMatiwane, the hill of execution.’ Logan dragged a finger across his throat. ‘No-one was spared.’

  ‘What happened to the trekkers who had already moved into Zululand?’

  ‘Eleven days after Retief and his men were executed, the Zulus struck each settlement. Only a handful survived. All up, about six hundred of the first Boer trek party into Zululand were killed – men, women and nearly two hundred children. More than half were white. A sad state of affairs and one that affected not only the Boers. The British administration was shocked that whites were targeted in such a way. I believe, as do many others, that revenge has yet to be extracted for what some still see as a terrible betrayal.’

  ‘Didn’t anybody strike back at the time?’

  ‘Oh yes. The Boers sent three hundred and fifty men into Zululand. They lost eleven, including the joint commander of the force. The British joined in too, sending officers and eight hundred or so Zulu exiles, only half of which were armed. On Dingane’s orders, they were ambushed by Mpande. Most were killed. After that, Dingane launched an attack against Durban itself. For a while, the place was a ghost town. Many European settlers scuttled back to the Cape.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Thirty years ago.’

  ‘So Dingane made enemies of both the Dutch and us?’

  Logan smiled. ‘Stop thinking like a white man.’

  Dallas rolled his eyes. ‘Forgive me for finding it difficult not to. I was under the impression I was one.’

  ‘Dingane kept raiding Boer settlements that continued to establish in Zululand. At the same time he actively sought a resumption of friendly relations with the British. Not that he preferred us over them, mind, it was just that the Boers seemed more intrusive at the time. We, of course, jumped at the chance. London wanted dominance of South Africa while all poor old Dingane needed was an ally in his quest to keep Zululand free of white intrusion. There was a lot of rhetoric from White-hall, mainly mouthing off about protecting the Zulus from slavery, although somebody did decide to send out the 72nd Highlanders. Under this guise, Britain’s real aim was to prevent Zululand being overrun by the Boers. They had no intention of committing men to battle on behalf of Dingane. A message was sent to Andries Pretorius, the leader of a Boer kommando unit intent on paying Dingane back for the betrayal of Retief and the trekkers. I believe the communication said something along the lines of desist and withdraw. As you can imagine, the Boers were hardly likely to be quaking in their boots. They pressed on and camped on the Ncome River.’

  Will volunteered, ‘It’s now called Blood River.’

  ‘Only by whites.’ Logan frowned at the interruption. ‘The Zulus had spies out. They knew Pretorius and his men were there.’

  ‘How many did he have?’

  ‘About four hundred and fifty all up. Most were farm boys who grew up with a rifle. They also had cannons. Dingane sent about ten thousand impi against them. Some were armed with weapons they’d taken from Retief but the Zulus believed that bullets would curve in flight like their assegais. They tried to compensate for this and missed everything fired at. The Ncome was too deep for the Zulu
s to cross. A wide chasm stopped them coming in from the south. They had only one approach – between the river and the ditch. It was open country but the Boers took their stand at the narrowest point. The Zulus attacked four times and on each occasion were mown down. It’s estimated that three thousand warriors died at the Battle of Blood River. The Boers lost no-one.’

  ‘What did Britain do?’ Dallas asked, not sure he wanted to know.

  Logan smiled sardonically. ‘The jolly old Crown,’ he said derisively. ‘Let me put it this way. When Dingane asked for their help he was thinking of troops and guns. What he got from the garrison commander in Port Natal was laughable. The British sent a message to Pretorius regretting the slaughter and warning of displeasure should further aggression occur. They let Dingane down badly. After the loss of so many at Blood River, Zulus started to question their king’s authority. Support for Dingane began to wane. And guess who was waiting in the wings?’

  ‘Mpande.’

  ‘Right. A sitting duck for the machinations of politics. He already had quite a following. The Boers were still worried by Dingane’s diplomatic relations with the British so they set up their own with Mpande. There were several clashes between Dingane and Mpande, but the rot had set in. Dingane’s followers began to decamp by the thousands. Eventually the old guard fled north and Mpande became third king of the Zulus.’

  ‘And now he is dying.’

  ‘After thirty years of mainly peaceful rule, yes.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Not so fast, old chap. Remember there were both Boer and British interest in Natal. It’s important to understand what happened to secure it all as a British province.’

  ‘Good point. What was it?’

  ‘Simply this. Zulus who had fled in order to escape Shaka’s and Dingane’s tyranny began to come back. We played politics and encouraged them. The Dutch didn’t like it, but wouldn’t run the risk of war with Britain. After some protest that they were being overrun by savages, the settlers packed up and left.’