The Zulus and Matabele: Warrior Nations

by Glen Lyndon Dodds

  Another indaba ensued on 28 August. It was a heated affair, partly attended by Matabele who wished to continue fighting. They interrupted colleagues who were more conciliatory and some of them angrily questioned Rhodes. Stent relates that a young chief scathingly retorted when told that Rhodes would provide land upon which they could settle: ‘You will give us land in our own country! That’s good of you!’

  The negotiations were taking place despite general hostility among the settlers and other whites who wished the war to be prosecuted to a finish: ‘Rhodesia demands a little more than peace,’ commented the Bulawayo Sketch, ‘they demand justice . . . punishment for the dastardly crimes committed.’ Sir Richard Martin, who had been sidelined by Rhodes, agreed. After the second indaba, he made a strong protest to his superiors, proposing that the negotiations should be taken out of Rhodes’ hands and conducted by himself in a firmer manner. But the Colonial Secretary came down in favour of Rhodes.

  On 9 September, Rhodes attended another indaba, this time accompanied by Lord Grey and Martin, at which a demand for the surrender of weapons made on 28 August was repeated. Within days, Martin wrote:

  I cannot say I considered the tone of the meeting satisfactory. The chiefs did not salute and at times showed a decidedly impertinent air, and spoke as though they had as much right to demand the withdrawal of troops that they complained were in their gardens, as we had to call them to lay down their arms.

  On 11 September, a frustrated General Carrington stated that the war could not be ended militarily without a further campaign in the next dry season, requiring the services of an additional 2,500 white troops plus appropriate support such as a detachment of engineers for blasting operations.

  With no sign of the Matabele surrendering, on 18 September Rhodes sent an ultimatum (via two senior Matabele) to the minor izinduna—the element least willing to yield. If no surrender happened soon, fighting would rapidly resume. It worked. On the 21st, Rhodes was able to inform Grey: ‘We may say the matter is over as far as these hills are concerned.’ It was just as well.

  A fourth indaba was held on 13 October, at which the leading ‘loyalists’, Gampo, Faku and Mjaan, were also present. They were rewarded—they received salaried posts—while senior rebel izinduna were promised similar positions on proof of good behaviour.

  Meanwhile, operations had been conducted against what remained of the north-eastern rebel faction. Therefore, on 23 September, Baden-Powell had reported to Carrington that his patrols had had a ‘great effect’ and that natives were surrendering: a process that gained momentum in October, by which time famine was taking its toll. Nyamanda surrendered in December.

  Thus by the close of 1896, peace had returned to Matabeleland—fighting, on the other hand, was to continue in Mashonaland into 1897. The struggle had not been entirely futile from the rebel point of view. Rhodes and others had been made acutely aware that the company’s administration needed to be radically overhauled and that the Matabele should be treated more humanely, not only to prevent further trouble—there were a number of scares following the rising—but also to keep in line with public sentiment elsewhere, most notably in Britain, where the subject of native treatment in Rhodesia had become a matter of widespread general interest.

  Consequently, some improvements were implemented. But the Matabele also experienced disappointments. For instance, partly owing to the company’s unwillingness to pay large sums of money on purchasing land already granted to whites, the well-intentioned Lord Grey failed to push through a programme of land reform aimed at allowing Matabele to settle on territory of their own in central Matabeleland. In short, white rule had not been overthrown and the Matabele were still viewed very much as second-class citizens, a state of affairs that was to continue into the second half of the twentieth century when many Matabele, and other blacks in Rhodesia, would once again fight for their freedom.

  12. EPILOGUE

  In 1979, white minority rule came to an end in Rhodesia. It did so after a bitter and prolonged war between the Rhodesian security forces and terrorist armies, principally ZANLA, that is, the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (consisting essentially of Shona freedom fighters) and ZIPRA, the Zimbabwe People’s Revolutionary Army, whose members were mostly Matabele. Although ZIPRA had less manpower, its men were better equipped and wore camouflaged uniforms, in contrast to those of ZANLA, many of whom wore civilian clothing.

  It will be recalled that the Chartered Company’s administration of Rhodesia survived the rebellions of 1896-7. However, it ended in 1923 when Rhodesia became a self-governing colony, with the British government having the right to veto legislation discriminating against non-whites. But in the 1960s armed conflict began with black nationalists who were intent on bringing white rule to an end.

  In 1964, small groups of ZIPRA and ZANLA guerrillas infiltrated northern Rhodesia from neighbouring Zambia, where their respective organisations were based. They had been trained in sabotage and subversion in countries such as Russia and China. But most of them were soon captured by the small but efficient Rhodesian security forces, partly acting on intelligence provided by local tribesmen.

  In November of the following year, the white minority headed by Ian Smith (a great admirer of Sir Winston Churchill) made a Unilateral Declaration of Independence from Great Britain rather than accept the British government’s policy of moving towards majority rule. In a population of some 4,870,000 non-whites, there were 228,000 or so Europeans most of whom were of British extraction, although there was also a marked South African presence as well as other minority groups such as the Portuguese. There was, moreover, a strong will to resist what most perceived not only as a threat to their own way of life but as an insidious communist plot to subvert Western civilisation in general.

  The first serious incursion by ZANLA insurgents occurred in April 1966, and others followed, some of them by ZIPRA. In mid-1967, approximately 90 guerrillas (mostly ZIPRA) crossed the Zambezi, but their presence was reported. They were soon intercepted and 47 of them killed and 20 captured.

  A further 123 guerrillas infiltrated Rhodesia in the closing days of 1967. They established base camps and tried to recruit local tribesmen for training. In March 1968, however, they were detected and the Rhodesian military struck, killing 69 of them and capturing many others.

  Despite these setbacks, which indicated that large guerrilla concentrations were outclassed by an enemy enjoying greater mobility and airpower, large-scale incursions continued until this strategy was abandoned in 1969 following further reverses. As Martin Meredith comments: ‘The nationalist strategy had been disastrous. They had committed a large proportion of their well-armed and well-trained forces to almost inevitable annihilation; they had failed to mobilise the African population or even reach them on a political level.’

  Dissension soon wracked ZIPRA and its political wing, ZAPU. In February 1970, Jason Moyo, who controlled ZAPU’s military administration, published a stinging indictment of the party leadership: ‘Since mid-1969, there has been a steady decline of a serious nature in our military administration and army. Military rules have been cast overboard. Planning of strategy is seriously lacking. Indiscipline is fast approaching dangerous proportions.’ ZIPRA was not to pose a significant threat for years to come.

  Meanwhile, ZANLA’s failure to make headway had likewise resulted in demoralisation and infighting. Incursions ceased while a military reappraisal was undertaken. In the early 1970s, arms and ammunition caches were established for future operations in areas of Rhodesia where the native population had been largely won over by ZANLA agents.

  In contrast, white morale had been boosted, both by the failure of the nationalists to make headway and by the failure of sanctions to bring the country to its knees—the United Nations had imposed comprehensive mandatory sanctions in 1968. Morale was also buoyed up by South African support, both economic and military, for in 1967 South Africa had com
mitted a small number of combat police to help the Rhodesian security forces. In short, a Dunkirk spirit prevailed. White Rhodesians were generally defiant, closely knit and fiercely patriotic, steeped in the heroic endeavour of predecessors such as Allan Wilson and his ill-fated patrol, and aware of the distinguished service rendered by Rhodesians in two World Wars.

  In December 1972, hostilities recommenced when ZANLA terrorists crossed into Rhodesia from bases established in Mozambique (without the blessing of Mozambique’s colonial masters, the Portuguese, who were fighting their own war against black nationalists) and attacked two white farms, causing a number of injuries. Other such attacks in the northeast soon followed. In 1973, the government responded by imposing collective fines and other punitive measures on native communities suspected of aiding guerrillas—the African tribespeople thus found themselves under pressure from both sides—and extended national service to Asians and men of mixed race. Black volunteers were also serving in the Rhodesian Army, most notably in the Rhodesian African Rifles, a unit dating from 1940 whose officers (until 1979) were all white.

  ZIPRA rejoined the fray in 1976, by which time the Portuguese had left Mozambique: their troops pulled out in 1974 with the result that Rhodesia’s 764-mile long eastern border now bounded a hostile state. Moreover, in 1975 South Africa had begun to reduce its military and economic support for the beleaguered Rhodesians. ZIPRA guerrillas entered Rhodesia from Mozambique, together with ZANLA forces, but withdrew after clashing with the latter.

  ZIPRA then opened a new front by infiltrating Rhodesia from bases to the west, in Botswana. Sporadic hit-and-run raids occurred in the Bulawayo area and along the main road running from Bulawayo to the Victoria Falls. Furthermore, others infiltrated from Zambia (some did so by crossing Kariba Dam in rubber dinghies) and thus the Rhodesian armed forces found themselves increasingly stretched, despite measures to meet the problem—such as the extension of the period of national service. Fear spread to more and more of the country’s inhabitants, black and white. Indeed, European emigration was becoming an increasing problem. In 1976 nearly 15,000 whites left the country, many of them settling in South Africa.

  By mid 1977 the war had spread right across Rhodesia, with ZIPRA’s military capability greater than hitherto, for since August 1976 ZAPU had carried out a massive recruitment campaign among the Matabele and Kalanga and many men had thus made their way to Botswana en route to training in Zambia, Angola and Russia. The bulk of ZAPU’s forces, however, were not committed to the struggle—they were withheld for a full-scale invasion in due course—and so ZANLA continued to spearhead the guerrilla war effort. By the middle of 1977 there were only about 150 ZIPRA at large in Rhodesia, in contrast to approximately 3,000 ZANLA.

  Reluctantly, on 24 November 1977, lan Smith finally conceded to the principle of one-man one-vote, although he believed that by negotiating with moderate or pliant black leaders (whom Smith believed enjoyed the support of most blacks in Rhodesia) he would nonetheless be able to secure future significant white influence in Rhodesia’s affairs, including control of the security forces. Meredith comments: ‘Majority rule to him meant simply a parliamentary rearrangement; the blacks would be given a majority in Parliament but be deprived of the power to interfere with constitutional provisions safeguarding white interests.’ Exiled black leaders outside Rhodesia such as Joshua Nkomo, the head of ZAPU, denounced the talks as an attempt to install a ‘puppet’ government. And so the war went on.

  A marked feature of the conflict was a succession of pre-emptive strikes launched against guerrilla bases in neighbouring states by the Rhodesian military, such as the SAS, a small unit that enjoyed the respect of its British counterpart and attracted recruits from Britain and elsewhere. In October 1978, for instance, during Operation Gatling, the Rhodesians hit ZIPRA bases in Zambia. The Rhodesian Air Force took control of Zambian air space (Zambia’s Air Force stayed grounded) and for three days Rhodesian forces carried out assaults which claimed the lives of over 1,500 guerrillas.

  Operation Gatling occurred a month after ZIPRA had downed a civilian Viscount airliner, using a SAM-7 missile, and had then murdered ten survivors. In February 1979, ZIPRA brought down another Viscount, killing all aboard. The Rhodesian security forces thus retaliated by launching an air raid on a ZIPRA base in distant Angola, and by striking targets once again in Zambia.

  Talks with moderate black leaders, such as Bishop Abel Muzorewa, nevertheless continued and led to an ‘internal settlement’, which introduced universal suffrage. In a General Election in mid 1979 Muzorewa was elected Prime Minister of what was henceforth to be known as Zimbabwe-Rhodesia, but control of the security forces remained in white hands. Needless to say, militant nationalists kept waging the armed struggle, while the ‘internal settlement’ was likewise rejected by the international community.

  In September 1979, by which time both sides in the struggle were war weary, representatives from their respective camps met for talks at Lancaster House in London. Concord on a new constitution was reached and a ceasefire agreement was signed on 31 December. Consequently, in 1980 a Commonwealth Monitoring Force arrived in Zimbabwe–Rhodesia to supervise the ceasefire and monitor a General Election. To the shock of many whites, in April 1980 Muzorewa and his party were swept aside and Robert Mugabe of ZANU—the political wing of ZANLA—became the first ruler of what was now simply called Zimbabwe. The early years of his premiership witnessed ugly scenes in Matabeleland, as his security forces (bolstered by troops from North Korea) stamped their authority on the area, and it has been estimated that over 20,000 Matabele may have perished: deaths certainly numbered into the thousands.

  During the many years of fighting which led to the establishment of Zimbabwe, the freedom fighters had invariably been bested by the highly professional Rhodesian armed forces. As Leroy Thompson, an expert in the field of counter-insurgency, comments: ‘The Rhodesian Army was one of the best counter-insurgency forces ever created, a fact obviously appreciated by South Africa, which absorbed certain elements of the Rhodesian Army almost in their entirety into the South African Army when they left Rhodesia.’

  The ANC and Inkatha

  By 1980 South Africa was itself experiencing black unrest, with nationalists determined likewise to end white minority rule, not only in South Africa but also in its dependency of South West Africa. Here, from 1965, the South African armed forces had been engaged in a guerrilla war against local freedom fighters, a war which had led to South Africa’s engagement in conflict with communist forces in Angola as well.

  In South Africa itself, African nationalism was dominated by the ANC (African National Congress) which had come into existence in 1912. Its founding fathers included John Dube, the ANC’s first president—the son of a minor Zulu chief—and another Zulu speaker called Pixley kaSeme, the husband of one of Dinuzulu’s daughters, who served as treasurer. Nonetheless, in the years that followed its foundation the ANC failed to ‘awake the mass of Africans to political awareness’, to use the words of a Zulu chief and member of the ANC, Albert Lutuli.

  This changed during the 1950s. Hardline Afrikaners—the National Party—were elected to power in 1948 and introduced apartheid, a policy of racial segregation more rigorous than had existed before. Consequently, during the 1950s the ANC began to enjoy mass black appeal and engaged in civil disobedience. It enjoyed its greatest support in the Eastern Cape, for in Natal the movement had been weakened by factionalism and had lost its sense of direction.

  Tension in South Africa reached new heights in 1960. On 21 March, a crowd of about 5,000 blacks in the township of Sharpeville descended on the police station. A couple of months earlier, nine police had been beaten to death by a mob in Durban and when a scuffle developed the Sharpeville police (who had been reinforced) opened fire, killing 69 of the demonstrators.

  At this date the ANC’s leader was Albert Lutuli, a devout Christian who had been elected the movement’s president in 1952. He p
romptly called a day of mourning and prayer, effectively a one-day national strike. Moreover, on 26 March, he burned his passbook before the media and urged others to do likewise, for passbooks were a hated part of the apartheid system. Within days, the government responded by declaring a State of Emergency under which the police had sweeping powers of arrest. Lutuli was among those apprehended, and the ANC and a more radical nationalist movement, the PAC (Pan African Congress), which objected to the ANC’s policy of allowing white members, were banned.

  In June 1961, by which time the State of Emergency had been lifted, the detainees freed, and Lutuli awarded the 1960 Nobel Peace Prize, militant members of the ANC such as Nelson Mandela, a Xhosa and the movement’s deputy president, decided on the use of violence to undermine apartheid. Consequently, in 1964 Mandela and other leading militants were sentenced to life imprisonment for terrorist offences. Lutuli, on the other hand, concentrated unsuccessfully on securing the imposition of sanctions against South Africa by the international community.

  Lutuli died in July 1967 and his funeral address was delivered by a Zulu protege, Chief Mangosuthu Gatsha Buthelezi, a paternal grandson of Mnyamana, Cetshwayo’s former prime minister, and a maternal grandson of Dinuzulu, Cetshwayo’s son and successor. Lutuli’s hopes of living to see an end to white dominance in South Africa had thus not come to fruition. Apartheid was still very much in place and indeed had become more firmly entrenched, for in recent years the Nationalist government (continually re-elected by white voters since 1948) had devoted much of its attention and resources to building up the country’s armed forces to protect white minority rule from both external and internal opposition.