Desmond Latham

Episodes 205-210 of the History of South Africa podcast

(Featured Image, Nongqawuse and her companion Nombanda)

As we move deeper into the annals of South African history, we encounter a moment of profound tragedy and transformation—a period steeped in prophecy, desperation, and ultimate devastation. The Xhosa Cattle Killings of 1856-57 and the Zulu Civil War’s Battle of Ndondakasuka were two defining events, each reflecting different facets of human conviction and struggle. One was an apocalyptic vision that led to self-destruction; the other, a brutal conflict for power. Together, they changed the trajectory of Southern African history forever.

The Prophecy That Shook a Nation

It began in April 1856, along the Gxarha River, a modest waterway that weaved through thick forest and deep ravines, concealing secrets that would soon unravel into catastrophe. Two young girls, Nongqawuse, an orphan of 15, and her younger companion Nombanda, were sent to chase birds away from the crops. As they went about their task, Nongqawuse encountered two ghostly figures among the reeds. These men—whom she later described as ancestors—delivered a message destined to reshape Xhosa society.

“Tell them the whole community will rise from the dead,” they instructed. “All cattle must be slaughtered; they have been tainted by witchcraft.”

Upon returning home, the girls relayed this prophecy to Nongqawuse’s uncle, Mhlakaza. Initially skeptical, Mhlakaza soon embraced his niece’s vision, interpreting it through the lens of his own spiritual transformation. Formerly known as Wilhelm Goliath, Mhlakaza had lived among European missionaries, served as an Anglican preacher’s assistant, and learned Dutch. His journey had been one of faith, betrayal, and reversion to tradition—a convergence of Christianity and Xhosa spirituality that now framed his response to Nongqawuse’s prophecy.

The Unfolding of a Disaster

With Mhlakaza’s endorsement, the prophecy gained momentum. The ancestors, Nongqawuse declared, would return, and a golden era would dawn—if the people obeyed. This obedience required an extraordinary sacrifice: the wholesale destruction of cattle and crops, the symbolic purging of all worldly possessions. As the message spread, skepticism warred with fervent belief.

The movement reached the ears of King Sarhili, ruler of the amaXhosa, who had weathered British invasions and internal power struggles. Seeking truth, he traveled to Gxarha and met with Nongqawuse and Mhlakaza. There, he was told that the ancestors would emerge from the ocean to restore the kingdom’s glory. The king, who had suffered personal losses and watched his people succumb to disease and colonial encroachment, embraced the prophecy. To demonstrate his faith, he sacrificed his prized ox—an animal renowned across Xhosaland.

This act of royal validation triggered an avalanche. Across the land, cattle were slaughtered, food was abandoned, tools were discarded. Skeptics remained, yet they found themselves isolated, even threatened, as believers turned against those who refused to comply.

The Promise of Resurrection

The first test of faith came with the prophesied day of resurrection in June 1856. Followers gathered, waiting in ecstatic anticipation for the dead to arise. The sun set, the moon rose, and… nothing happened. The faithful were stunned, disillusionment flickered—but hope was not yet lost. Mhlakaza and Nongqawuse quickly recalibrated: the ancestors would now rise on a new date, under a “Moon of Wonders and Dangers” in August.

As desperation deepened, so too did the sacrifices. Entire herds were destroyed, crops burned, wealth abandoned. Still, the dead did not rise. Another date was set, then another. The prophecies evolved—the English, it was said, had tainted the process by refusing to participate. More cattle must die. More suffering must precede salvation.

Famine and Collapse

By early 1857, the situation had reached its grim conclusion. An estimated 400,000 cattle had been slaughtered. Tens of thousands of Xhosa perished from starvation, while many others fled their homes in search of sustenance. The British, watching the crisis unfold, seized the moment.

Governor Sir George Grey, a man of unrelenting energy and colonial ambition, orchestrated a response. With British officials issuing edicts and placing new restrictions on the Xhosa, the balance of power tipped irreversibly. The once-proud resistance that had defied British expansion for 80 years crumbled—not only by military conquest, but by its own hand. Xhosa lands were seized, their people scattered, their independence broken.

Echoes of a Global Phenomenon

The Xhosa Cattle Killings did not exist in isolation. Across the world, indigenous nations were in upheaval. In 1856 alone, Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest resisted colonial encroachment, while in Utah, the Ute people waged war against Mormon settlers. The Taiping Rebellion—a messianic movement that promised salvation through radical upheaval—was at its peak in China. These were the years of violent transformation, where visions of redemption clashed with the harsh realities of colonial expansion.

In South Africa, the reverberations would be long-lasting. The prophecy of Nongqawuse became synonymous with tragedy, a cautionary tale of desperation exploited by a mix of spiritual fervor and political manipulation.

History’s Reckoning

King Sarhili, the last truly independent Xhosa ruler, had gambled everything on the prophecy. By the time the scales fell from his eyes, it was too late. His authority was shattered, his people devastated. Meanwhile, Nongqawuse, whose vision had led to such calamity, was taken by the British and hidden away, her voice silenced.

But history does not merely condemn. It seeks to understand.

The Xhosa, like so many indigenous nations, found themselves ensnared in a world shifting beneath their feet. Colonialism was not just a battle of armies—it was a battle of faith, of ideology, of psychological warfare. The Cattle Killings, in all their horror, were part of this struggle—a desperate, final attempt to reclaim what was slipping away.

A Nation’s Resilience

The amaXhosa survived. They endured war, starvation, and dispossession, yet their identity remained intact. Today, Nongqawuse’s name is often spoken with sorrow, but also with the recognition that history is complex—full of individuals swept up in forces far beyond their control.

As we continue our deep dive into the turbulent mid-19th century, we explore two pivotal moments in South African history: the Battle of Ndondakusuka, where Cetshwayo’s forces crushed Mbuyazi’s supporters in a struggle for Zulu succession, and the rise of the social bandits in the mountainous borderlands of Basotholand and the Eastern Cape. These events reshaped the power dynamics of the region and left lasting legacies that would reverberate for decades.

The Battle of Ndondakusuka: Where the Crocodiles Feast

In November 1856, the struggle for the Zulu throne reached its boiling point. Mpande kaSenzangakhona’s two sons—Cetshwayo kaMpande and Mbuyazi kaMpande—found themselves locked in a bitter succession dispute. Mpande’s attempt to contain Cetshwayo’s growing influence by relocating Mbuyazi to the southeast had failed. With tensions escalating, Mbuyazi, supported by white traders and missionaries, gathered his followers near iSangqu, close to the Thukela River.

Cetshwayo, well aware of the looming confrontation, rallied his forces. Advised by the cunning Maphitha, he recognized that inaction would cost him the throne. He commanded between 15,000 and 20,000 warriors—far outnumbering Mbuyazi’s 7,000 iziGqoza fighters. Cetshwayo’s regiments included the fierce uSuthu warriors, whose ranks were bolstered by some of the most influential Zulu chiefs, such as Mnyamana and Masiphula.

Mbuyazi turned to white traders and British officials for help, but his pleas fell largely on deaf ears. A few, including the ambitious John Dunn, lent their support. Dunn, who had adopted the ways of the Zulu, led a small contingent of African horsemen known as the iziNqobo—”the Crushers”—who carried firearms and were expected to turn the tide of battle.

By late November, Mbuyazi’s people, along with women, children, and livestock, had gathered at the banks of the Thukela River, seeking protection. However, the river was flooding, preventing escape. When Cetshwayo’s forces arrived on November 30, they formed into the traditional Zulu battle formation—the chest and horns. The tension was palpable. Mbuyazi’s warriors, outnumbered and lacking the same tactical experience, faced an overwhelming force.

The Battle Unfolds

On December 1, Cetshwayo’s forces launched their attack. Before the battle commenced, a moment of significance was recorded. A gust of wind blew off Mbuyazi’s ostrich plume from his head – a bad omen. Cetshwayo, sensing the moment, dramatically stepped on Mbuyazi’s discarded shield, signaling his dominance. And yet, the izinGqoza, led by Mbuyazi, initially put up a strong resistance. The iziNqobo’s musket fire momentarily repelled the advancing uSuthu. However, Cetshwayo’s strategic reinforcements, particularly the elite Mandlakazi regiment, turned the tide.

The izinGqoza, overwhelmed, attempted to retreat towards the Thukela, but the river was impassable. Panic set in. The uSuthu pressed forward, slaughtering their enemies in the water and along the banks. The river became clogged with bodies, and crocodiles feasted on the remains.

Thousands perished, including Mbuyazi and five of his brothers. Dunn barely escaped, stripping off his shirt and diving into the Thukela. Meanwhile, Cetshwayo, victorious yet aware of the British watching, spared the lives of white traders caught in the chaos.

By the end of 1857, Cetshwayo had secured his dominance, though the throne was not yet fully his. His status as a man among warriors remained uncertain—until the moment his regiments were granted the right to don their head rings, a symbolic transition into manhood.

Social Bandits of the Borderlands

While the Zulu fought for succession, another kind of warfare was playing out in the mountainous regions of the Eastern Cape, Basotholand, and Natal. Here, a hybrid society of raiders and rebels known as the BaPhuthi emerged, taking advantage of the rugged terrain to evade colonial and traditional African authorities alike.

These social bandits—composed of displaced Basotho, San, Nguni-speaking refugees and Khoekhoe—were experts in cattle raiding and survival. The British and Basotho rulers struggled to control them, as their fluid movements across the highlands made them nearly impossible to track.

The Wittebergen Native Reserve: A Contested Frontier

In 1850, the British established the Wittebergen Native Reserve along the borders of Basotholand and the Eastern Cape. Designed as a buffer between white settlers and African polities, it became a refuge for outcasts, including the BaPhuthi. However, rather than pacifying the region, the reserve became a caught up in raiding expeditions.

Mjanyana Valley, left, and location right. ©Satellites.pro

John Austen, the second superintendent of the reserve, took a hardline approach. A polyglot and skilled marksman, he personally led commandos against the raiders, executing many on the spot. Despite his efforts, the BaPhuthi, led by the wily Moroosi, continued their plundering ways. Moroosi’s brother Lisawana orchestrated raids deep into the Cape Colony, utilizing networks of allies among the Bhaca and Thembu.

The Rise of the Basotho Pony and the Arms Race

As the conflict escalated, the BaPhuthi developed a formidable advantage: their mastery of horseback raiding. Their use of small, agile ponies—precursors to the famed Basotho pony—allowed them to evade colonial commandos. Meanwhile, colonial forces and settlers sought to counter the bandits by strengthening their own cavalry and fortifications.

By the mid-1850s, the banditry problem had reached new heights. The British, Free State Boers, and Basotho alike sought to curb the BaPhuthi’s influence. However, their days of unchecked raiding were numbered. As tighter borders and military campaigns intensified, the noose around Moroosi and his men began to tighten—a story for a later episode.

Global Turmoil and Its Impact on South Africa

1857 was not just a year of regional conflict—it was a year of global upheaval. From the Second Anglo-Chinese War to the Indian Rebellion, British colonial resources were stretched thin.

The largest slave auction in U.S. history took place, foretelling the coming American Civil War. Meanwhile, Elisha Otis installed the first elevator, and James Lord Pierpont composed “Jingle Bells.”

In South Africa, these global developments influenced policy decisions and colonial governance. The British, wary of overextending themselves, sought stability in the Cape.

Looking Ahead

Cetshwayo’s rise to power was not the end of Zulu internal struggles. Meanwhile, the BaPhuthi’s resistance against colonial encroachment would soon face a reckoning. The year 1857 set the stage for these continued conflicts, shaping the future of Southern Africa in ways both tragic and transformative.

History of South Africa https://iono.fm/c/6011